#this took me like a week to make back in december :')

[southernvampire]

.

[punkshort]

i'll be home for christmas | part one

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Having just caught your fiancé cheating on you, you decide to come back home from the big city to Austin for the month of December to try to figure out your next step. You had no idea you would be getting more than you bargained for with the handsome single dad who built your parents' house.

Chapter Warnings: no outbreak, modern day but Joel is 40, language, fluff, flirting, reader has a childhood nickname only her family uses, Hallmark tropes up the wazoo, soft!joel, reader's sister is pregnant, talks of infidelity, talks of divorce, alcohol use, kissing, (smut in part two)

WC: 9.1K

A/N: this is my take on a cheesy, fluffy, soft, smutty, Joel Miller Hallmark Christmas movie. It's just sweet and silly and makes me smile, and I hope it does the same for you. I also wrote this in less than 2 days and didn't really edit it much, so sorry in advance if there's any errors.

Found the pic on Twitter but can't remember the source, if you know please send me a message and i will credit them

Series Masterlist

It was the second week of December as you stood inside the airport in Austin, Texas, waiting for your luggage to emerge on the conveyor belt. You thought by coming home early, you would have avoided the holiday traffic, but you were wrong. All around you, people squealed with excitement and embraced, dragging their worn out luggage behind them as they made their way out of the bustling airport. You tried to keep the scowl from your face as you watched, but it was next to impossible, so you wrapped your Burberry scarf around your neck instead, hoping to hide your displeasure.

This was not the plan you had for Christmas. You should be in New York in a high-rise apartment in front of a roaring fireplace with a glass of wine and your fiancé - ex-fiancé - not back in Austin with your parents, who begged you to come visit for the holidays after you told them the news.

Coming home to visit wasn't your favorite thing, but you felt guilty having avoided the holidays with your family for so many years, and you would have ended up all alone in the city anyway. So you caved, using up all the PTO you saved for the wedding, and took the rest of the year off from work.

Your designer luggage stood out like a sore thumb when it tumbled down the conveyor belt. You winced after watching the impact and snatched it up quickly. Glancing around, you saw a beacon in the storm: a familiar green, glowing sign in the distance - Starbucks. The line was long, but your flight was early, so you waited and got a latte, hoping it would lift your spirits a bit before you had to face your parents.

You tapped the side of your coffee cup anxiously as you rode the escalator down to the first floor, scanning the crowd for your mom and dad. There were a few people holding up signs with names on them, and when you saw the sign that said "Bucket" on it, you cringed.

Your dad's tall, round frame came into view when the people in front of him dispersed. He looked almost exactly the same, except a little greyer. Still sporting a shockingly full head of hair and his signature thick mustache, he grinned and pulled you into a warm hug.

"Really, Dad? 'Bucket'?"

"Well, that's what we call you, ain't it?" he said with a smile. You rolled your eyes and tried to be annoyed, but you had to admit that you were happy to see him.

"Where's Mom?" you asked.

"She's waitin' in the car, didn't wanna pay for parking so we're in a pick up zone, let's hustle," he said, wrapping his arm around you as he led you outside. "How was the flight?"

"Long," you said, then gasped when the cold air hit you. "Wow, I didn't think it would be this cold yet."

"It's been a cold one so far this year," he nodded, directing you to the left where you could see your mom smiling and waving from the passenger seat of their white SUV. You waved back and grinned. Maybe coming home wasn't such a bad idea, after all.

"Hiya, Bucky!" your mom said happily, leaning out of the window to give you a half hug while your dad loaded up your belongings in the back.

"Hey, Mom," you replied. "I like your sweater."

She was wearing one of her tacky Christmas sweaters that she wore every year - unironically. It amazed you how some things never change.

You climbed into the back seat as your dad carefully exited the parking spot and joined the line of cars that were slowly inching towards the main road.

"We're so glad you decided to come home this year, you can finally see the new house!" your mom said excitedly. They had built a brand new house, and the way she provided updates and pictures to you over the phone for the past year, you felt like you had already seen it.

"Yeah, can't wait," you said, staring out the window.

"Hope you don't mind, but we're throwin' a party tomorrow night," your dad said, glancing at you in the review mirror. "Wanted to have our friends over to see the place and have an early holiday party. They'll be so happy to see you, it's been so long since you've been home, Buck."

You had been hoping to spend most of the next three weeks in bed moping and scrolling on your phone. The thought of a party and seeing all those people looking at you with pity made your stomach turn. Your mom must have sensed your discomfort.

"It's alright, honey. They won't say anything," she said softly, and you squeezed your eyes shut.

"Okay," you replied, your voice pained as you opened your eyes to stare at the passing traffic on the thruway.

You'll make an appearance for an hour, and then try to sneak back upstairs until the party ends, already fabricating a headache to blame it on.

The house your parents built was impressive, even you had to admit. It was a two story colonial with four bedrooms and three bathrooms. The open floor plan was stunning as you made your way from room to room. The first floor alone had a spacious living room with vaulted ceilings, a kitchen with an attached dining room, and a separate family room off the back. There was even a small office by the front door that you missed the first time around, and a pantry as big as your closet back home.

You cringed at the thought, reminding yourself that it was no longer your home. That was part of the problem. You had moved in with Will, and when you discovered he had been cheating on you, you crashed at your friend Melanie's place. When you tearfully told your parents the news a few days later, they asked you to come home. Just for the holidays, your mom had said. Just to give you time to figure out your next move.

"This is beautiful, Mom," you said honestly, admiring the fine details on the cabinets.

"Thank you, sweetie. Took a long time, but Joel built it just right for us," she said, beaming.

"Oh, the contractor, right?" you replied, distracted now by the backsplash above the counters.

"He's such a sweet man, he was so patient with us when we changed our minds a million times over every little thing."

"Well, tell him he did a great job," you murmured, opening and shutting different drawers.

"You can tell him yourself, he'll be at the party tomorrow," your dad said, opening the fridge to scrounge for some snacks.

"You invited your contractor to your holiday party?" you asked in disbelief.

"Sure we did. We either saw him or spoke to him almost every single day for a year. He's a good man."

"Okay," you said slowly, still finding it a bit strange, but reminding yourself that things worked a little differently in the south.

"Bucket!" you heard your sister call from the front of the house. A smile plastered across your face instantly as you rushed to the door, both of you squealing as you wrapped your arms around each other and jumped in a circle, unable to contain your excitement.

"Cassie!" you said, pulling back to look at her, brushing her sleek, dark brown hair over her shoulder. "You look fantastic!"

"Ugh, I feel like shit," she said, and you laughed, glancing down at her barely swollen belly.

"How far along are you again?" you asked.

"Twenty weeks, but I'm ready for this to be over! I'm so tired all the time, it sucks," she said, flopping down on the couch in the living room after she gave your parents quick hugs.

"Where's Josh?" your mom asked, referring to your brother in law.

"He's still working, he'll be by later," Cassie said, waving her hand. "Gives us a chance to catch up," she added with a wink.

"You girls do that, we need to go to the store for tomorrow night. Do you need anything?" your mom asked, and you shook your head, eager for them to leave so you could be alone with your sister.

"Tell me everything," Cassie said the moment the door clicked shut.

If it were anyone else, you wouldn't have been in the mood to talk about the mess that was currently your life, but you've always been able to talk about anything with your sister. You trusted each other implicitly and there was no judgement, no matter if you had cheated on a test or gotten drunk during prom, you told each other everything.

So you did. You told her how for months, you felt like something was off with Will. How he would stay out late and say it was for work, but none of his work friends ever posted about going anywhere those nights on social media. He grew more distant and you tried to ignore your paranoia, but when he collapsed into bed one night, too out of it to wash up, and you saw the lipstick on his neck the next morning, you lost it. He hardly even tried to explain himself, barely even attempted to lie, and you began to think maybe he wanted to get caught. Maybe he wanted you to do the dirty work and end things so he didn't have to. Fucking coward.

"What a piece of shit. I never liked him," Cassie said when you were finished. "He acted like he was so much better than everyone when he was here, do you remember the comments he made about the wine mom had? It was so fucking rude."

"Yeah, I know," you agreed.

"So why were you even with him?"

"We had been together since college, Cas," you said, exasperated. "I knew him before he was like that. He used to be sweet and fun. Then he got that finance job and met all those assholes and he became just like them."

"Well, I'm just glad you didn't end up married before finding out what he's really like," she said, shifting her weight on the couch with her hand cupping her small stomach. "That would have been a huge mess."

"It's still a huge mess, I have no where to live now, and I can only couch surf for so long," you said, burying your face in your hands.

"You'll figure it out, Buck. I'll help you look for places online while you're here. Maybe set up some appointments so you can tour them when you get back."

"Thanks," you said, giving her a weak smile. "That would actually be great."

"Now, on to more important things," your sister said, slapping her palms against her knees to stand.

"Baby names?" you asked.

"No! Let's figure out what you'll wear to the party tomorrow," she said, wiggling her eyebrows. "I wanna look through all your fancy designer clothes."

You giggled and stood to join her.

"Fine, but I'm still dropping baby names while you look," you replied.

After spending a majority of the next day helping your parents decorate and prepare food for the party, you finally were able to excuse yourself to shower and get ready. Cassie had picked out a Ralph Lauren lace cocktail dress that Will had bought for your birthday last year. You slipped it on, running your hands over the fabric as you adjusted the dress in the mirror. Just because he bought it didn't mean you couldn't wear it again. You snatched the glass of wine from your dresser and took a sip, trying to push the thought of him from your head as you made your way downstairs.

Cassie and Josh were already in the kitchen, munching on appetizers and chatting with your parents. Cassie let out a low whistle when you entered the room. You waved her off and gave Josh a big hug and kiss on the cheek.

"Good to see you," you told him with a smile. "All ready for the baby?"

"Getting there," Josh replied, wrapping an arm around Cassie's waist. You tried to ignore the ugly, jealous pit in your stomach as he told you how the nursery was coming along. You wasted so many years of your life on Will. Your sister was already married and starting a family, and here you were, basically homeless and starting over. Pathetic.

Family friends slowly began to trickle into the house, luckily being whisked away by your parents to give them a tour after you meekly greeted them and hid back in the kitchen. As more and more people arrived, you began to wonder how your parents kept so many close friends when you barely had a handful back in New York.

A few kids raced by you in the kitchen as you made your way to the bar to refill your wine. Even though it was loud, you could still hear your dad's booming voice as he regaled a friend with a fishing story. You wandered around a bit, trying to find Cassie and Josh so you didn't look out of place, but stopped dead in your tracks when you saw them chatting with Mr. Tanner and his son, Troy, backing away before they could see you. Troy used to have the biggest crush on you when you were kids. If he found out you were single, you wouldn't be able to shake him all night.

You eventually found yourself alone, back in front of the snacks. You picked at the chips on your plate, not really interested in eating but hoping to avoid any awkward conversations, so you kept your eyes down, scrolling mindlessly on your phone. Apparently, it wasn't good enough because you felt someone sidle up next to you.

"Those any good?" a deep, unfamiliar drawl spoke from your side. You looked up to find the softest pair of brown eyes you've ever seen on a man. Blinking, you took a moment as your gaze raked over his patchy beard and the dark, tousled curls on his head. They looked so soft, you had to resist the urge to reach out and touch them. What was wrong with you?

"Huh?" you managed to squeak out after you realized you had waited too long to reply. Idiot.

"The, uh, chips," he said, pointing at your plate before rubbing the back of his neck.

"Oh!" you said, looking at your plate, completely forgetting you even had it. "Yeah, they're alright."

He nodded and glanced around the room, unsure of what to say next. He cleared his throat and tried again.

"How do you know Paul and Martha?"

Distracted, you watched as he crossed his arms over his broad chest, stretching the fabric of his red flannel over his shoulders, pulling the material taught. You had to remind yourself to pay attention and stop gawking at this man like he was a piece of meat. Jesus, maybe you should stop drinking.

"They're my parents," you said after a moment, your eyes flicking across the room, finding them with a group of their friends with your dad's arm wrapped around your mom's shoulder as she giggled and gazed up at him adoringly.

"Oh, you're Cassie," the man said, his eyes dropping from your face to your stomach, and you swore you saw a glimmer of disappointment.

"No!" you said quickly, your hand subconsciously resting on your midsection. "That's my sister, I'm their other daughter." You told him your name and briefly explained you lived in New York and were just visiting for the holidays.

"They must be real happy, havin' you home for so long," he replied, and you shrugged.

"Yeah, it's been a while since I've come home for a visit. I was feeling pretty bad about that," you said, choosing to leave out the biggest reason you were there. This stranger didn't need to be burdened with your love life drama. "Besides, they were so excited to show off the new house," you continued, waving your arm around the room.

"Took us long enough, but it finally came together," he replied with a smile.

"Oh! You must be Joel," you said, realization finally dawning on you.

"Yeah, sorry," he said, shaking his head and stretching out his arm. "That was rude of me, don't know what I was thinkin'." His cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you shook his hand.

"My parents always have such wonderful things to say about you. The house is beautiful, I was blown away when I first saw it," you told him. "I especially love the little details on the cabinets."

"Thanks," he said with a soft smile, averting his gaze to look at the cabinet behind you. "I actually did that myself. It's kind of a hobby of mine. Closest to art I'll ever get, I guess."

"I don't think it's just 'close' to art, I think it is art. It's stunning," you told him, running your fingertips over the intricate floral design. "You're very talented."

"Well, thank you," he said sheepishly, rubbing his beard to hide his smile. You could see the blush creeping up his neck and you bit your lip with a grin, turning your head to try to give him a moment. Were you making him nervous? He was painfully good looking, could this guy actually be into you? Were you even interested? The break up was still so fresh and it had been so long since you've dated anyone besides Will, you hadn't even considered it yet.

"So, how long have you worked in construction?" you asked after a minute, discarding your plate on the counter to give him your full attention.

"Oh, my whole life. Me and my brother started the business when we were in our twenties. Only thing we were any good at, and luckily it pays the bills," he told you with a shrug, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. "What do you-"

Joel's question was cut off by a young girl with curly brown hair in a red velvet dress bouncing up to him.

"Dad! Can Uncle Tommy take me outside so we can look at the pool?" she asked. Dad? You looked down when he pulled his hands out of his pockets, palming one of the girl's shoulders to quiet her down, and noticed the gold wedding band. Of fucking course.

"The pool? Sarah, it's freezin' out," Joel said, and she grinned.

"I'm not going in, Dad, I just wanna see," she said, rolling her eyes. She glanced over, noticing you for the first time, and smiled. "I really like your dress," she said.

"Thank you," you said, running your hand down the fabric. "I like yours, too."

"Uh, yeah, that's fine. Just make sure Uncle Tommy sticks with you, alright?" Joel relented, and she clapped her hands gleefully before running off again.

"She's cute, how old is she?" you asked him, looking around the room to see if Sarah had run back to a woman who could be Joel's wife.

"She's sixteen," he said, eyeing you carefully. He hadn't thought this far ahead and hoped he wasn't scaring you off.

You turned to him, startled, having guessed she was younger.

"You must have had her young," you said, the words slipping out before you could catch them. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean that like it sounded-"

"No, it's alright," he said with a chuckle. "I did. I'm forty."

You nodded and took a sip from your glass, letting your eyes drift away, rethinking your conversation. Maybe you misread him and he was just being friendly. There was no way he would be flirting with you at a party with his kid right there. But then he cleared his throat, drawing your attention back to him.

"Listen, I hope I'm not bein' too forward, but are you here with anyone?"

You raised your eyebrows at him over your glass. There was no misreading that. Blinking rapidly, you tried to formulate a reply that wouldn't cause a scene. Was he seriously hitting on you with a ring on his finger? You put your glass down on the counter and opened your mouth to reply when your sister's voice interrupted you.

"Bucket! Come here, you remember Troy, right?"

You cringed, at both the nickname and the person in question, before slowly turning your body towards her and forcing a fake smile.

"Of course. How are you?" you said with a hug.

"Doing great, just got a new job with a law firm downtown," Troy said, rubbing his sweaty palms on his jeans and shifting his weight nervously. He began to ramble about his new job as your sister introduced herself to Joel behind you. You resisted the urge to strangle her, reminding yourself she was carrying your baby niece or nephew and that you'll have to wait until after she gave birth to kill her. She knew you couldn't stand Troy, but she probably couldn't get rid of him, either.

You stood there, draining your wine glass while he prattled on for the next twenty minutes. By the time Troy's dad walked over and ushered him away, Joel was nowhere to be found.

Probably for the best, anyway. You were getting really sick and tired of only attracting unfaithful men.

You hadn't considered how annoying it would be to have your parents hovering around you all the time, worried that you were slipping into a depression and trying to get you to join them on activities outside the house. After you felt forced to go sledding with them the day before, you decided to make yourself scarce today, which is why you found yourself at the mall in downtown Austin browsing for a Christmas gift for your future niece or nephew.

As you were looking through a storefront window, you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. Taking it out, you saw a text from a friend back home.

Sydney: You'll never guess who i just bumped into

You were typing out your response, chin tucked into your chest, when you felt someone knock into you. Startled, you looked up only to lock eyes with Joel the contractor.

"Oh!" you managed to stammer out. His deep brown eyes lit up and a warm smile spread across his face when he looked up and recognized you.

"Sorry, wasn't payin' attention," he said. "How, uh, how are you?"

"Good," you said, nodding and clutching your phone in your hand. "You?"

"Good. Was actually just thinkin' about you," he admitted, looking down and shifting the bag he was carrying from one hand to the other. "Never got to say goodbye to you the other night."

"Yeah, it was pretty crowded. I didn't realize my parents were so popular," you joked. "Is Sarah with you?"

"No, she's in school," he replied, and you bumped the heel of your hand against your forehead, rolling your eyes. Of course she was, it's the middle of the day.

"Duh," you said quietly, finding it hard to hold his gaze without getting butterflies, so you looked away.

"So, uh, I hope this doesn't sound creepy, but I asked your sister if you were seein' anyone the other night," he began, and you felt your face instantly heat up. Why didn't Cassie warn you?? "-was wonderin' if I could get your number."

"Huh?" you asked, your eyes widening as you tried to control your breathing. You glanced down at his hand again when he looked away and saw he was definitely wearing a ring.

"Thought we could go out sometime? If you're interested?" he asked, his own nerves wreaking havoc as he shifted his weight and chewed on the inside of his cheek, praying his face wasn't as red as it felt.

"Are you serious?" you asked him, narrowing your eyes. The audacity of some men!

"'Course I'm serious," he said with a nervous smile. "Thought we hit it off the other night-"

"Joel, listen. I'm not going to say what I'm really thinking for the sake of my parents and everything you did for them, but I am not interested in dating married men," you said with a scowl. He frowned, giving you a confused look before you turned on your heel and stormed away, joining the crowd of Christmas shoppers bustling by.

He looked down at his hand, making a tight fist before swiveling his head around, trying to locate you in the crowd before he lost you.

"Hey, wait!" he called out, pushing past clusters of people as he jogged to try and keep up with you. He called out your name as he got closer. You stopped suddenly but didn't turn around, causing surprised shoppers to have to redirect at the last minute to avoid running into you.

"Hey, I'm sorry-"

"You should apologize to your wife!" you said loudly, causing a few people to turn their heads in your direction as they walked past. Joel looked around nervously.

"I'm not married," he clarified quietly. You looked down at his hand again and he flexed his fingers.

"Can we get a coffee or somethin'? And I'll explain," he begged, his chest rising and falling rapidly with each second that passed as you considered your answer. "Please."

"Fine," you agreed, and his face relaxed once again.

You sat down at a coffee shop within Barnes and Noble as Joel ordered you both something to drink. As you watched him at the counter, you admired his long legs and broad shoulders underneath his brown coat and wondered what possible excuse he was going to come up with.

Oh my god, what if she died?

You rubbed your eyes, hoping you didn't just insult a widower in the middle of a crowded mall.

Joel joined you at the table and set your coffee down in front of you with a smile.

"Thank you," you said softly, fiddling with the cup and avoiding his eyes as he shrugged his coat off, revealing a navy blue V-neck sweater underneath. Your eyes drifted to the small patch of bare chest that was exposed and your stomach clenched. Swallowing hard, you forced yourself to meet his gaze, but he was staring down at his ring finger.

"I'm not married anymore, just wanna make that crystal clear," he began, still staring at his ring.

"Okay," you said slowly, waiting for him to continue. He sighed.

"We've been divorced for a few years now," he said, finally looking at you. "It was... hard. Really hard. I, uh," he scratched his beard as he struggled to find the words. "I've had a tough time lettin' go. Thought for a while we might get back together, so I didn't take it off. Then I guess I just got so used to it, I never thought... I'm sorry, I sound like a mess," he said with a sad smile.

"It's alright, I think I understand," you told him, and he looked at you with renewed optimism, encouraged to continue.

"I never took it off because I never thought 'bout askin' anyone out til now," he said. "Didn't realize how that would come across, you just took me by surprise that night and I couldn't stop thinkin' 'bout you."

You blushed and looked down at your coffee, trying to hide your smile behind your cup, but he saw it and grinned.

"Are you still in love with her?" you asked him. You didn't want to get wrapped up in something that would end up hurting you in the end.

"No," he said firmly. "I mean, I'll always care for her. She gave me Sarah, how could I not? But I'm not in love with her anymore."

You nodded as you absorbed his words, glancing around the little coffee shop before dragging your eyes back to his. He was looking at you expectantly, waiting for you to ask anything else that would make you comfortable with accepting a date from him.

"Well, thank you for being honest with me, but I'm not sure I'm ready for a relationship just yet."

Joel tried to hide the disappointment in his face as he nodded in understanding. The first time in five years he asked someone out and he got shot down.

"It's not you," you clarified. "It's bad timing. I just got out of a really long term relationship. Well, I was actually engaged, and I caught him cheating," you explained with a wince, not expecting to bring this up today. "Probably why I was so sensitive about the wedding ring," you said with a half smirk. He nodded quietly and looked down at the ring on his hand, twisting the metal around with the pad of his thumb as you spoke.

"Sounds like we've both been through a tough time," he murmured, and you quietly agreed.

You sat in silence for a few minutes, sipping your coffees and trying to figure out how to end this awkward interaction without making things worse. You were going to lie about having plans so you could leave when he suddenly spoke up.

"No pressure, but, uh, what if we just went on one very casual date?" He looked at you with those soft, brown eyes and you felt your resolve crumbling. "Sounds like we could both use some practice. You're leavin' at the end of the month anyway. Could just be fun, help get us both back out there."

You paused, not expecting that. He had a good point. It's been so long since you've gone on a date with anyone, and it sounded like he was just as rusty. Besides, what else would you be doing with your time over the next three weeks?

"Okay," you agreed softly. He raised his eyebrows in surprise, parting his lips slightly as he straightened up in his chair.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you said with a grin. "Why not?"

Early the next morning, you heard your phone buzz on the nightstand next to your bed. With a groan, you cracked an eye open to look at the time, then reached for your phone.

"7:30? Who the hell..." you grumbled, squinting at the bright screen, your eyes widening when you saw Joel's name. You sat up in bed, fully awake now, and slid the notification over to open the text.

Joel Miller: Morning. Are you free tonight?

You grinned, flicking on your light so you could see better to respond, then you paused. Should you make him wait before replying? Would you look too desperate if you answered right away?

You shrugged, deciding to answer him. It was casual, you both knew it wouldn't go anywhere, so who cares how it looked?

You: Good morning, you're up early! And yes, what did you have in mind?

You chewed your thumb nail as you waited for his answer.

Joel Miller: This is nothing, I've been up since 5. For some reason, clients expect me to be at job sites early. How about ice skating?

You giggled and tapped out a reply.

You: I'd love to!

Joel Miller: Great - I'll pick you up at 7

Realizing you forgot to reply to Sydney the day before, you switched messages and shot her a quick answer before sliding back down under the covers to scroll on your phone.

You resisted the urge as long as you could - a whole fifteen minutes - before you typed Joel's name into Facebook. His name popped up with two mutual friends and you rolled your eyes. Of course your parents were friends with him. Clicking on his name, you scrolled down his page, tapping through photos of him and Sarah that looked out of date. He didn't seem like the type to update social media often, and his page reflected that hunch. He didn't have many pictures so it didn't take long until you scrolled all the way to the end, presumably his first photo from when he joined. It was a grainy picture of him with a huge smile and his arm slung around a woman with dark, curly hair, just like Sarah's.

She was pretty, you couldn't deny that, and you vaguely wondered why they broke up. He made it sound like he didn't want a divorce, and you figured he would have mentioned cheating since you brought it up.

You closed the app. If Joel wanted to tell you, he would.

Dragging yourself out of bed, you made your way downstairs on the hunt for coffee. Pouring yourself a cup from the machine, you burrowed into the couch, wrapping yourself in a blanket as you waited for your coffee to cool down and flipped through the various streaming services your parents subscribed to.

"Hey Buck, you're up early," your dad said as he descended the stairs and headed to the coffee.

"Hey, Dad," you said, taking a sip from your mug and wincing as you burned your tongue.

"What're you up to today? You wanna come to dinner with your mom and me?"

"Actually, I have a date," you told him, bracing for the reaction.

"Whoa-ho! Been here not even a week and you got yourself a date? Don't tell me... Troy?" he asked with a big grin, sitting down at the other end of the couch.

"Ew, no!" you said, scrunching your nose. "It's, um, Joel," you said quickly, taking another sip from your mug.

"Our contractor?" he asked incredulously.

"Yeah, we met at the party," you told him. "Then I ran into him at the mall."

"Ran into who at the mall?" you heard Cassie's voice from down the hall.

"When did you get here?" you asked as she rounded the corner and gazed at your coffee enviously.

"Just now. Who did you see at the mall?"

"Joel," you said, glaring at her. "Got something to tell me about that?"

"Oh, yeah," she said, wiggling her eyebrows. "He was asking about you at the party. I made sure to let him know you were single."

"Yeah, he told me, thanks for the heads up, by the way," you said. "We're going out tonight."

"I didn't realize he was single, I just assumed he was married because he's always got Sarah around," your dad said, beginning to zone out to the movie that was on the TV.

"He's single," was all you said, picking your phone back up.

"He's cute," Cassie said, and you blushed. "I'm glad you said yes, mom and dad already love him, so he'll fit right in."

"I don't even live here. It's a casual thing, we're just hanging out," you told her.

"Yeah, okay," she said, giving you a wink. You rolled your eyes and pinched her as you passed by.

"I'm going to shower, then maybe you can help me pick out something to wear," you told her over your shoulder, walking back upstairs.

Joel arrived at your parents' house promptly at 7, just as he promised. He pulled into the driveway, checking his hair in the review mirror quickly before sliding out of his truck and making his way up the porch. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this nervous as he glanced down a the green flannel he wore, praying he didn't miss a button or a stain. He was with his ex for so long that he could barely remember a time when he was nervous around her.

But with you, he felt the butterflies the moment he saw you at the party. You didn't notice him at first, but he saw you enter the living room and freeze in the doorway, your eyes locked on someone across the room before backing out the way you came, as if you were looking to avoid them. He couldn't catch who it was, having hardly known more than five people in the whole house, but he felt compelled to follow you. To see if you were maybe looking for a husband or boyfriend. But when he saw you alone in the kitchen, staring down at your phone, he couldn't stop himself from saying something to you.

Joel never did things like that. He always kept to himself, very quiet and reserved. He was content with his work during the day and hanging out with Sarah at night.

For the most part, he was happy. It was only at night when the loneliness crept up, when he tucked himself into his big, cold bed and tried his best to fall asleep as fast as he could, so he wouldn't lay there wishing someone who cared for him was just in the bathroom washing up.

Tommy had been encouraging him to get back out there, always offering to watch Sarah if he caught Joel looking a little too long at a waitress or a neighbor. Sarah was old enough to be on her own for a few hours, but he still asked Tommy to stop by, anyway. Maybe part of him wanted his brother to know that he was going on a date, if only so he would stop trying to set him up all the time with women he had no interest in.

Joel reached out to ring the doorbell, cringing when he noticed it was one of those camera doorbells. Paul must have installed it after the house was finished. He heard heavy footsteps on the other side of the door and held his breath, realizing he hadn't thought about your dad's reaction to your date.

Paul swung the door open, greeting Joel with a deep scowl as he leaned up against the doorframe.

"What's up, Joel?" he asked. Joel cleared his throat.

"Hey, Paul. I'm here to pick up your daughter," Joel replied, bracing himself. Paul just stared at him, breathing deeply as he looked Joel up and down. Joel wasn't a small man, but Paul had at least sixty pounds on him. He tended to have an intimidating look until you got to know him.

"Oh, yeah? For what?" Paul asked, clenching his jaw. Joel froze, wondering if there was a reason you didn't tell your parents about tonight, unsure what to say. Finally, Paul's face broke into a huge smile as he began to crack up, doubling over at the waist.

"I'm sorry, Joel, I had to," he wheezed, standing back up and clapping Joel on the shoulder. "Couldn't help myself. Come on in," he said, still laughing as he led Joel down the hall and towards the kitchen.

"Jesus, Paul, scared the shit outta me," Joel admitted, his heart racing as he rubbed his forehead.

"Beer?" Paul asked, and Joel shook his head.

"No thanks, I'm drivin'," he replied, and Paul raised his eyebrows with a nod.

"Good man, passed the first test," he said with a wink as he twisted open a beer for himself. "Hey, uh, in all seriousness, I just wanna talk with you before she comes down."

"Yeah, 'course," Joel replied, leaning up against the counter.

"I ain't sure what she's told you about the asshole she was with before, but he really hurt her. Now, I know it ain't got nothin' to do with you, what's in the past is in the past," he said. "But just keep that in mind, will you? I can't stand seein' my little girl hurt like that again."

Joel nodded solemnly, understanding completely.

"I ain't like that, I'll be respectful, I promise," Joel replied. "Besides, we both know she's goin' back to New York in a few weeks. We're just gettin' to know each other, is all."

"Yeah, she said the same thing to her sister earlier, but then she spent all damn day on the phone, pickin' out an outfit and gettin' herself ready," Paul said with a sigh. "I'm just sayin', be careful with her."

Joel felt a flutter in his chest and tried to hide his smile when he found out you had been thinking about him all day. He was glad he wasn't the only one.

"I hope you weren't waiting long," you told Joel as he backed out of your driveway.

"Not at all," he said with a smirk. "You're worth the wait. You look beautiful." He glanced down again at the light pink sweater with a small designer logo he was unfamiliar with in the corner.

You blushed and bit your lip, quietly thanking him and trying to hide your reaction behind your scarf, but he saw it. He always does.

Now that he knew you were looking forward to this date just as much as he was, he felt a little more confident.

"Did you have a good day?" he asked, giving you a sideways glance as he merged his truck into traffic.

"Yeah, did you?"

"It was alright," he said, slowing the truck down at a stop light. He turned to face you now. "Couldn't wait to see you, though."

You turned a darker shade of pink and he smiled, pleased to see that he could elicit that reaction from you, the same way you do to him.

"So, ice skating?" you said, trying to take the heat off of you. You looked at his hands on the steering wheel, noticing he made sure to take his ring off.

"Yeah," he said, pressing his foot on the gas as the light changed. "Thought you could teach me somethin'."

"Teach you? How do you know if I can even skate?" you asked teasingly.

"Just a hunch. Was I right?" he replied, his mouth turning up into a half smirk. You giggled and he felt his stomach tighten. He needed to hear that again.

"Yeah, you were right," you relented. He pulled his lower lip between his teeth and slapped the steering wheel in victory, making you giggle again, and his chest filled with warmth at the sound.

"Where's Sarah tonight?" you asked him as he pulled into a parking spot at the skating rink.

"My brother's watchin' her," he replied, disappointed that you got out of the truck so quickly. He had planned on opening the door for you.

"Does she like to ice skate?" you questioned as he led you inside to the counter to rent your skates.

"Oh, of course she does. But I usually sit it out and just watch her have fun," he said, picking up your rentals and heading over to a bench.

"You should have brought her, I wouldn't have minded."

"We don't have to talk 'bout her, you know," he said quicky, and your fingers froze over your laces.

"Why wouldn't we talk about her? She's your daughter," you asked slowly, straightening back up to look at him.

"No, I know. What I mean is, I know it ain't every woman's fantasy to go out with a single dad and all the baggage that comes with that. So, if you don't wanna talk about her, I get it," he said, casting his eyes down as he focused on tying his laces. You reached out a hand and gently placed it on top of his, immediately making him freeze at your touch.

"She's part of your life, so I want to hear about her. You shouldn't think like that, Joel. It's really not a dealbreaker for most women," you assured him, gently rubbing your thumb over his knuckles, his eyes glued to your hand as he listened. "And if it is, fuck 'em."

His eyes snapped up to yours now, then a slow smile spread across his face.

"Okay," he said softly, and you smiled, pulling your hand back, leaving him wanting more.

"Besides," you said, standing up on your skates as you made your way to the rink. "You have no idea what kind of fantasies I have."

You turned to give him a wink as you effortlessly stepped out onto the ice, holding out your hands encouragingly for him to follow. It was a miracle he was able to move his legs after that comment, but he managed just because he knew he would feel your warm hands on his again.

Joel was a quick study. He was nervous at first, you could tell that he didn't want to embarrass himself, but he did surprisingly good. Especially considering how crowded the ice rink was and how fast people were skating by. After about half an hour, he was able to skate - albeit, slowly - around the rink next to you without any assistance. Part of you wondered if he pretended to need more help than he really did just so it would make you feel good.

"So, anyway, that's basically what I do for work. It's pretty boring," you said with a sigh.

"Not boring. Marketing in New York City sounds like a dream," he replied.

"Yeah, except I work on all the behind the scenes stuff. It's not really as fun as it sounds," you admitted, not missing work in the slightest since you've been back in Texas.

"Well, d'you work with some fun people, at least?"

You paused, considering his question for a moment, before shaking your head with a dry laugh.

"Not really," you said, but he still tried to help you find a reason why you would put up with it.

"You were able to take off almost a whole month, that's pretty great. Not many places'll let you do that, can't be that bad," he offered, and you scoffed.

"It's the time I saved up for the wedding I was supposed to have," you told him sadly, and he groaned.

"I'm knockin' it outta the park tonight, ain't I?" he said, rubbing his face before almost losing his balance. You giggled and he couldn't stop the huge grin that plastered itself across his face.

"It's fine, you didn't know," you said, waving him off. And for the first time, you really didn't mind talking about it. Something about him made it easier.

"What'dya say we get some hot chocolate?" Joel asked, jutting his chin towards the vendor where you first came in.

"Yeah, that sounds great," you replied. Joel turned towards the exit without looking when a teenage boy, who was speed skating around the rink trying to impress a girl, smacked right into him, sending him flying backwards on the ice.

"Joel!" you exclaimed, rushing to his side. He groaned, rubbing the back of his head.

"Hey, why don't you watch it!" you yelled angrily at the teenager, who had managed to only stumble a bit upon impact.

"Sorry, man," the kid mumbled before taking off.

"I'm gonna kick his ass," you said, about to stand up to go after him, but Joel reached up to grip your arms, holding you in place.

"I'm fine, sweetheart," he said with a chuckle. Sweetheart. Your heart skipped a beat at the term.

"Are you sure?" you asked, your brow furrowed with concern.

"Yeah, just gimme a hand," he said, and you stood to give his arm a firm yank, allowing him to stand.

"Let's get you off the ice," you told him, ushering him carefully to the exit and finding a bench.

"Does your head hurt?" you asked, sitting down next to him. Your fingers reached up to graze the back of his head.

"No," he said breathlessly, staring at you as you continued to study him for any injury. God, you were so beautiful, he couldn't force himself to look away.

"That's good. How about your vision?" you pressed, still so focused on the fall and not seeing the way he was looking at you. But when you finally locked your eyes on his, your breath caught in your throat.

All the laughter and playful yelling surrounding you faded. You couldn't look away from his heated gaze, his deep brown eyes boring into yours so intensely, you almost forgot to blink. He brought his hand up to gently cradle the side of your face, his calloused palm meeting your soft skin. Your lips parted to accommodate your sudden need for more oxygen, and his gaze fell to your mouth.

"Joel," you whispered, and the way his name sounded coming from you was so damn sweet, it almost did him in.

"Yeah?" he whispered back, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"Kiss me."

He didn't need to be told twice.

He leaned forward, eyes sliding shut and slotting his lips against yours, deeply breathing in your scent so he could remember it tomorrow. He was determined to commit every second to memory, knowing that by morning he would be aching for you, aching for this. Against his better judgement, he pressed himself into your lips harder, unsure if he will ever get to feel like this again when you inevitably came to your senses. The idea of this feeling being taken away from him spurred him on, desperate and eager for every second you were willing to give him.

Your hand came up to the back of his neck, holding him against you as his lips massaged yours tenderly. You inched closer to him on the bench so you could tuck yourself into his broad chest. He was so warm and soft and strong that it was making you dizzy. Your fingertips stroked the curls at the base of his neck as you tentatively opened your mouth just enough to suck his lower lip between yours. The quiet noise he made when you did that made your insides clench with need, and against all odds, you felt yourself falling, completely losing yourself in him and the moment.

A startling voice over the loudspeaker announcing that the rink was closing in fifteen minutes finally snapped you out of it. You both pulled back but kept your foreheads pressed together as the world around you slowly melted back into focus. His hand still cupped your face and he lifted his thumb to gently trace your swollen lips.

"I should take you home," he murmured. At first, your stomach flipped, thinking he meant his home, but you realized he wasn't that type and he meant your parents' house.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, and you sat back reluctantly, breaking away. His hand dropped from your face to the hand in your lap, his thick fingers wrapping around yours for a moment as he collected himself with a deep breath.

Finally, he forced himself to stand, still clutching your hand and helping you up. You glanced down at the floor and smirked.

"We should probably take our skates off," you said, and he chuckled, breaking the tension and sitting back down, his hand reluctantly letting go of yours to undo his laces.

After you turned in your rentals, his hand quickly found yours again, unwilling or unable to let you go as he led you back to his truck, this time making sure to open the car door for you. Thanking him quietly, you jumped up into the cab and watched him round the front of the car, running a hand through his hair and sucking in deep breath.

You grinned and bit your lip as he started the truck, swinging his arm around to grip your headrest and twisting his body to back out of the spot. It took everything in you not to scoot across the seat and tuck yourself into his side.

He let his arm drop loosely on the seat in between you as he drove down the street, one hand on the steering wheel. Your fingers inched forward, sliding your palm underneath his hand, lacing your fingers together. The corners of his mouth tugged into a smile and you drove in a comfortable silence, your hands intertwined the whole time, until he pulled into your driveway and cut the engine.

You sighed as you stared at the darkened house, already missing him and he wasn't even gone yet. He peered over at you, trying to think of a way to prolong the date, but aside from the obvious, which he wasn't going to do just yet, he was coming up empty.

"Lemme walk you up," he said finally, and you nodded, reaching for the handle of the door but he stopped you. You furrowed your brow, confused, until you watched him rush over to open the door, and you grinned, taking his hand so you could slide out of the seat.

You stared at the ground as he led you up the path to the porch, your heart pounding in your ears. You weren't sure what you had been expecting tonight, but it definitely wasn't this feeling. This was so much more.

"Well, thank you for tonight," you said as you reached the door, turning around to look up at him through your lashes. "I had a really good time."

"Yeah, me too," he said, his soft, brown eyes trailing over your face, locking away every little detail. Unable to resist, he stepped forward, his rough hand skimming around to the back of your neck. He tilted your face up, ducking down slightly to meet you halfway and brushed his lips gently over yours.

Your hands flew up to grip the collar of his flannel, keeping him pressed against you as you leaned against the front door. God, for someone who claimed to be rusty, he was a really good kisser. He was gentle and slow and it took your breath away both times. You knew you were getting in over your head, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. All you could think about was him and how badly you wanted more.

Nervously, you opened your mouth and flicked your tongue against his plush lips. He responded by parting his lips and allowing your tongue to dance with his own, his mouth applying more pressure than before as the heat flared between you.

Before you could stop it, a soft moan rumbled from your throat, causing him to pull back, panting slightly as his gaze flickered between your eyes. You gazed up at him, eyes dark and desperate, your fingers still gripping the fabric of his shirt tightly.

You weren't sure what he was searching for, but after a moment he seemed to find it because his mouth came crashing down on yours once again, this time with more yearning and desire. His tongue probed inside your mouth, licking past your teeth and in the back of your mind you realized he tasted faintly of mint and you wondered when on earth he popped a mint into his mouth but it didn't matter. Nothing else mattered except the two of you in that moment, each seeking something within the other that you never expected to find.

His chest ached knowing he would have to stop kissing you soon, or else he would never leave. He always considered himself a strong man, after everything he had been through, how could he not? But something about you made him realize he wasn't nearly as strong as he thought. Your lips were so soft compared to his, so sweet and perfect that it made him want to cry because in that moment, he knew he could never let you go.

[4giorno]

WAAAAAAAAAAH opening the game first thing in the morning is rlly something to get you energized today ;_____;💖 the previews have me crying tbh

[nezuscribe]

toji x reader (mdni, 18+)

your parents set you up to marry some snobby rich guy when all you want is toji (toji is uncharacteristically soft in this get over it)

“toji! toji, would you please open the door!" your fist pounded on the red chipped paint, sopping wet as the rain pelted down your face, mixing with some of your tears as you shivered in your thin shirt, clearly not dressed for the occasion.

you didn't know if he was home or not, but you were desperately hoping that he was.

you knew it was wrong coming back to this place, especially since the last time you saw him you told him to never look at you again, but you didn't know anywhere else to go in this town.

the field around you moved violently with the winds, and the porch light was still off. his old mustang was parked outside, so you knew he had to be in there, somewhere.

"toji, please, i'm freezing and it's dark!"

you were sure that if he didn’t open up you’d have to make some room in the little shed he had in the front because there was no way you’d be driving home alive with the rain about to come, but before you went plotting about how to fashion a tarp into a blanket, the door swung open.

the first thing you noticed was that he didn’t seem too pleased to see you, his eyes blazing into a glare, brows furrowed down the middle as the two of you just looked at each other.

it had been weeks since you had last seen him, and if you didn’t know any better, the dark circles under his eyes might have mirrored yours.

you longed to kiss it.

"why are-" he couldn't finish his sentence as you hurled yourself into his chest, your arms gripping onto him as he stumbled back inside.

you never would have thought that you’d miss the faint smell of smoke, or the whiskey lingering around his lips, but you hoped that it would never leave your memory.

sobbing as you clung onto him tightly, you had no idea what expression had taken over his face. was he angry or shocked? you knew you were getting his shirt wet, your fingers gripping onto his back as he stayed quiet, the only thing filling the vacant room being your wet sniffles.

slowly, you felt him move around a bit, giving in as he pulled you deeper into his chest. he patted your back as he shut the door behind you, eyes darting over your figure to make sure everything was okay.

"you okay?"

you shook your head, still hiding in his chest, and he nodded. he knew that much, but at least you had the vicinity to reply. he was worried that you had been petrified.

"want some tea?'

you shook your head again, still clinging onto him, perhaps even tighter than before.

he took in a sharp breath, not knowing what to do with you. it had been weeks since he last saw you, although, in a much different state.

"sweetheart," he muttered lifting your chin up with his thumb so he could see your face, the air knocking out of his lungs as he was once reminded of just how beautiful you are, even with tear tracks down your cheeks, "you 'gotta talk to me."

you sniffled, your lashes fluttering up and down as you fell back on his chest, your cheeks smushed in and your breaths came out in heaves.

"daddy set me up with him," you finally said, voice coming out muffled, "the wedding's in december."

his grip on your waist tightened as he pulled you in impossibly closer to him.

toji had been your "summer fling", or so your parents liked to call him. your parents had bought a summer home a couple of years ago and so every year since then, for a couple of months, you and your family would stay in this little town.

this year shouldn't have been different from the last one. in fact, the first couple of weeks there are fine. you easily find some people within your parent's circle, but it wasn't fun yet, it wasn't summer.

that is until you bump into a man who's friends with your friend's boyfriend (he was also third-wheeling with you on their date).

he's tall and brooding and most definitely wouldn't have looked your way if not for the predicament you were in. he gave the aura that he hated old money and you along with it, but for some reason, the scar on his lip twitched into a tiny smile as you kept up with his humor with witty remarks.

weeks following that were filled with him chasing after you as you giggled uncontrollably, not used to the giddy feeling that filled your chest whenever he tackled you down, holding you close to his chest as he littered kissed all over your face.

you knew it was wrong, at least by your parent's standards, but you didn't care all that much. you liked the dirt under his nails and the gruffness in his voice, it was so different from the guys you grew up with.

and despite his outward appearance he was so sweet. he may not have shown it much, but he held you close to him, attached by the waist as he whispered lame jokes in your ear and bought you caramel apples whenever you craved them.

it could have been puppy love but deep down you knew it wasn't. his lips lingered far too long for puppy love

and when your parents found out they were livid. it was a complete disgrace for somebody with the likes of you to be fooling around with somebody from the likes of him, and it only took a few meetings with your parents and a few arguments that left you in tears in him seething before you broke it off, promising that if you ever saw him again you'd shave his head.

but here you were, and his head was still full of hair.

"what's his name?" he asked, his voice gruff, and heavy as you looked up, wiping your nose again as you blinked.

"um," you racked your mind for a few hours ago, the screaming match you had with your parents fresh in your head as you gnawed on your lip, "satoru...something, i don't remember."

his eyes darkened, wiping the tears off of your face as he sucked in a breath through his teeth.

"your folks know that you're here?" his voice grew gentle, trying to keep it together for your sake, and you shook your head once again. you felt another wave of tears coming, and it took a lot of composure to not break down.

"no, i told them to go to hell. m-maybe they'll go searching there first," you murmur, a little grin making its way onto his face as he leads you through his home, the comfy sight making you feel at ease.

you found yourself on his couch, the same one from a few weeks ago, the same one where he...

"i'll go get you some clothes-" but you stopped him from leaving, tugging on his shirt to keep him in place.

"stay," you say, and he had no fight in him to deny you of your request. not with the way you looked at him. never when it came to you.

he gives you a tight nod, sitting across from you, careful not to be too close as he glances at the clock. it's late, and with the way the rain is pouring outside he'd be damned if he let you go back home in this weather. he'd rather take the claims of being sued by your father and let you sleep here than have you leave.

you look at your hands clasped in your lap, not saying anything about his distance, but feeling it tenfold when he sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tries to grapple with this situation.

"we're leaving two days from now," you say hurriedly, glancing at him quickly and then back to the ground, not knowing what else to do.

his eyes squint, brows crease down the middle at your words. he felt his chest grow heavy, and he can't remember the last time somebody had this sort of effect on him.

"thought you were leaving in a month?"

you shake your head, wiping at your eyes as you sniffle.

"my parents wanted me to meet...him."

his tongue pokes at his cheek, and he wants a scotch right now. fuck it, he'll take some vodka if he had any, but he finished the little bit remaining after the last fight the two of you had.

"i didn't mean what i said," you sputter out again, your eyes darting to his as you shift on his couch, "i don't hate you toji, i don't hate you at all. i was mad, 'nd i was mad at my parents and at you for what they told'ya to say, but i'm not mad at you, i love you, and i want to-" he doesn't let you finish, moving the two quick steps that separated the two of you as his face leans down to yours, his lips cutting you off.

you squeal a bit in surprise, clutching onto his shirt as he sets himself down, moving you with his own strength onto his lap as he never disconnects from you.

the two of you were basically feverish, feeling as though if you stopped for a second the world would stop spinning and you'd be forced to find each other again.

your spit mixed with his, your tears staining his cheeks as he huffed against your lips, his tongue fighting yours as he pushed his way into your mouth, his fingers wrinkling the expensive fabric of the dress that was splayed over your legs.

your fingers clutched and grasped at his hair, loving how it felt between you. you tugged, knowing he liked the sting, and knowing you liked the small gasp that escaped his throat when you'd do so.

"l-love you," you pant, pulling away to catch your breath as he follows you upward, spit connecting the two of you together as your eyes water again, "i love you toji," your words have a hold on him, something he's never experienced before.

for your entire life, you've wanted to be full of love. you've wanted a love that you've read in classic literature and seen in old hollywood movies. you wanted to be so full of love that you emptied yourself, waiting around for your prince charming. and when you met toji, he poured out his heart, giving you everything that he had. nobody else was toji, and nobody else could love you the way that he did.

"love you too, sweetheart," he whispers, and the words are heavy on his tongue, something he never said before he met you. he's not used to this, and he's not sure he will be. but he's sure that he wants your love, and knows that no other man is worthy of it. half the time he doubts he's worthy of it as well.

"i didn't mean what i said," you tell him again and he shushes you with another kiss, nodding as his large hands run soothingly up and down your back, his nose nudging your sweetly.

"i know sweetheart, i didn't either. y'know what you mean to me, nothing you say or do will ever make me mad at you." and he's right, because he can't remember the last time he had been with a woman who he was sure he'd kill for, can't remember the last time he had actually loved someone the way he loves you.

"i," you feel your words running out when his lips attach to your neck, your head falling backward to give him more room as heat blossoms in your face, across your chest, "i wanna run away with you, start fresh s-somewhere," you can feel your mind begin to go hazy as he sucks, his tongue running across the fresh marks he leaves you, looking through his long lashes as he listens intently to what you have to say.

"no," he shakes his head, undoing the knot that was keeping your dress together as his nose rubs at your soft skin, savoring this, "no, you're 'gonna go back home and you're 'gonna-"

"toji!" you try to quiet him but he looks at you, wanting to finish what he is trying to say. you knew what he wanted to tell you, knew that deep down you were merely dreaming. his calloused hands squeezed at your thighs, unconsciously moving you up and down his hard bulge.

"and you're 'gonna marry somebody who can provide for you," and although the words take everything in him to say, he knows that is the life that you deserve.

"i'll work, i'll find a job and the two of us will-" he presses a soft kiss to your lips, shaking his head.

"you know that this isn't the life cut out for you, and you know that no matter what, i won't be able to give you everything that you want." his thumb is hungrily hooking your panties to the side, fingers running over your slit that was practically dripping in wetness. he knew that this was the last time the two of you could be able to do this, and though he wanted to savor every second with you, he could barely control himself as it was.

"i want you," you shakily say, tears springing in your eyes as he hurries to wipe them away. who would have guessed that the man most feared in town would have done anything in his power to make the woman he loved most smile genuinely again?

to that, he had no response.

so instead, he did what he knew best, tugging his pants down as his cock sprang free. you glanced down, your mouth running dry at the sight.

his head was an angry red, leaking with pre as it twitched in the cold air. he was the only man you've been with, but you were aware enough to know that he was hung. and you couldn't help but think he was pretty, although you'd never admit it out loud. toji would only swat at you, gently turning your head to the side as he rolled his eyes.

but tonight, the two of you didn't have time to waste.

normally, he'd eat you out until your screams filled his house until your legs clamped around his head until you said you couldn't take anymore, his mouth shining with your essence and his spit. but you were wet enough where he didn't have to, and truth be told, you wanted him in you now, wanted to feel yourself around him.

you lined yourself up with him, your walls fluttering around nothing as his head spasmed from the feeling of lightly running against your clit. he was usually the one in charge, but tonight he let you take the lead, knowing how you needed it.

you gently pushed yourself on, your head tipping backward at the stretch. no matter how many times you'd take him, your pussy would never fully be able to accommodate his size. even his fingers would sting when he stretched you out, and this was far more different from that.

"fuck, slowly, there you go," he talked you through it, his eyes half-lidded as you began to sink into him, taking him inch by inch. your fingers gripped his shoulder, leaving indents as you felt your lungs squeezing out any of the air left in them.

"t-toji, fuck, you're so big," you mutter, biting on your lips to keep in the wanton moans as you squeeze around him, hearing him suck in a breath at the feeling of your walls fluttering around his twitching cock.

"you can do it," his hands gripped onto your waist, your skirt pooling around your hips as he helped steady you on, "know you can sweetheart, you've done it before," his voice was husky, a deep drawl to it. you loved it, loved him, loved everything about him.

"shit, hmmm, fuck!" you squeal, finally squeezing all of him in your, trying to take a little break as you felt him nearly rip you in half, the sting was welcome, and you lived for the way his head nipped at the spot that made your eyes roll back.

after a few seconds, you felt his thumb find your clit, swiping at it slowly as he began to move you up gently with his other hand. sweat was dotting his brow bone, and your head had thumped onto his, letting him maneuver your body.

once it was just his tip left in you, his eyes found yours, making sure you were good. when you gave him the go-ahead nod, he slammed your back down, a loud whine ripping itself from your lips.

"t-toji! oh my god, ooooh, f-fuck, toji!" you could barely find any words to say as he bounced you up and down on his cock, squelching sounds filling the air as a ring of you circling it's way around his dick, making it shine in the faint candles he had lit once the power went out from the storm.

"there you go, fuck, jus' like that." he rasped, eyeing the way your tits bounced with every move, palming them as he switched between tugging at your nipples and swiping at your clit, knowing either one made your mind go foggy.

"remember this dick when you see that scrawny bitch, yeah?" he huffs into your damp skin, kissing, biting at your chest, your neck as he looks up at you, "know this he can never amount to this, 'k sweetheart?"

you nod feverishly, tugging at the strands of hair that littered at his nape as you lean down to kiss him, everything messy and rushed as the two of you cling onto each other.

"who makes you feel this good?"

"y-you!" you cry out, crying from the pleasure and the pain, the crack in your heart worsening with each second.

"who does this pussy belong to?" he edged you on, his veins dragging up and down your walls with his every thrust, his lip caught between his teeth.

"you toji!" you whine out, trying to grab onto his clothes, his shoulders, anything to stabilize you to reality.

"who do you love, huh, sweetheart?" he needs to hear it once more, once more so that it can be seared into his mind. once more so that once he has to live a life without you in it, the reminder that you love him, or at least loved him at some point, can make him smile without having it turn bitter.

"you, jus' you toji!" your tears are salty on his lips, and he can feel you getting closer to your release. he knows he's not far away from his, so he picks up his pace, rubbing your little bud faster as he feels your walls clench tightly around him.

"that's right," he groans, "you're all mine."

he knows that he's being selfish, knows that you'll probably forget about him and this fling years from now. but here, at this moment, he wants you to remember him. he wants your pussy to mold to his shape so that no other man can fit you, fuck you, love you the way toji does.

you nod again, your arms circling around his neck as your hips stutter, your stomach clenching and walls clamping down as you feel yourself about to let go.

"toji, i'm gonna, fuck, toji...!" you squeal when he doesn't stop, his pace relentless as he sucks a nipple into his mouth, never leaving you unmarked with his bruising grip on your waist.

"come on, do it, let go, come with me," he's close, and once he feels your walls spasming around him, your head tilting back as you let out a strangled cry as you come, he lifts you up, his release spilling all over your naked stomach as his cock twitched with his every movement.

you swear you've never felt this good in your life, your toes curling as you finally cum around him. it's too much, the way your essence squirts everywhere, your walls longing to be filled once he pulls out of you.

it's too much yet too little, knowing that the two of you don't have much time to savor this moment.

your chest is heaving up and down, your neck flushing with heat as you settle back down on toji's lap, your legs and thighs cramping as he flashes' you a little grin, the same one that made you fall in love with him in the first place as you move some hair away from his eyes.

aside from your labored breaths, his house is silent once again, and just as heavy as it was minutes ago.

"the night's still not over," he reminds you, the two of you glancing out the window as the rain continues to storm down. the wind is faster and angrier than it was before you arrived, and the thunder rattles the little house.

"can we go to your bedroom?" you ask, resting your head down on his chest as you listen to the rhythmic pattern of his heartbeat. it's erratic, just like yours.

"mhm," he hums, rubbing a soothing hand up and down your back, shuffling your skirt around so that it settles on your thighs.

"i'm 'gonna come back next year," you saw, wiping at your cheeks so that he can't see you crying again, but nothing goes unnoticed by him, "and you better have a ring waiting for me when i do."

he nods again.

"anything for my girl."

[sluttsumu]

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ CASE OF THE EX

ೃ࿐ feat. gojo satoru

in which: you run into your ex husband just when he realizes he needs you back.

contains: nsfw, smut, exhusband!gojo, dubcon, infidelity, intoxicated sex (alcohol), breeding, gojo calls reader wifey, exhibitionism if you squint. wc: 1.3k

ೃ࿐ ki’s note: this was supposedly to be a drabble and ended up being way longer than expected. i’m also trying out a diff writing style lmk whatcha think!

it’s freezing, as it normally is in december, but this was a different type of cold.

the standing on your ex husband’s porch, four glasses of wine deep, kind of cold. you’ve been standing outside for borderline five minutes, but you know he’s home.

“satoru..” the door creaks open to a very tipsy gojo standing on the other side. he’s quick to pull you in without another word because, “it’s freezing, why are you here this late?”

locking the door behind you he winces, rubbing his eyes trying to remember what day of the week it is. “is it my weekend to have her?”

her being your daughter, satoru’s beloved angel — the only other girl he’s ever loved besides you.

loved. past tense.

he swears he’s still inlove with you but you never believed it. you hated gojo satoru, but that’s just what you wanted yourself to think. he’s been trying to break down this wall of resentment for months, after all it’s been almost a year since you two split.

“she’s at your mothers house, i dropped her off last night.”

gojo could breathe easy knowing his daughter isn’t here, he didn’t want her to him like this; drunk, that is.

you watched as he disappears into the kitchen, taking your coat and shoes off, leaving them in familiar places.

you don’t why you’re here, back in this house, with him. it’s almost as if you were on autopilot directing yourself to a common place with no intention just…there.

he comes back with a bottle in one hand and two crystal glasses in the other, staring blankly before asking again, “why are you here?”

the silence was loud enough, it was actually the most you two have spoken in the past year.

—

“do you miss me?” smirking with the tilt of his head he rests his head in his palm, eyes flickering between you and the full shot in front of you. the two of you playing a variation of truth or drink.

“satoru…don’t do this to me.” you face palm.

“i know you do, but if your ego is too big to admit it then take it.” slender fingers slide the glass your way, you could see your reflection in the liquid, and god, you look guilty.

speaking of looks, if they could kill you’d be a dead woman. the way he looks back at you across the table reminds you of all of the reasons you crave gojo satoru.

you took the shot, quickly too. it burned going down almost lighting your body on fire in a self-sabotaging way. he found pleasure in watching you not admitting the blatant fact.

“you deny it but it’s true,” standing, he downs the contents of his glass mid-sentence, making you both somewhat even in intoxication.

the ‘clink’ of him setting his glass down next to yours echos as he’s now moved from sitting across to standing in front of you.

“ ‘m sure there a lot you miss about me, hmm?” his hands slide between your hair and skin, four out of five digits resting on the nape of your neck, his thumbs brushing against your cheek.

from gojo’s pov he couldn’t have you in a better place, literally in the palm of his hand. as crazy as it sounds he had to do this, he loves you, and love makes you do some…not nice things.

to be fair, manipulation and persuasion are not the same to him. he never told you to come over, but then again he could’ve called you an uber and sent you back home…that would’ve been the ‘right’ thing to do.

unfortunately for you everything that comes to mind in the head of gojo satoru is right.

you nod shyly, listening to each saccharine word that leaves his lips.

“c’mon wifey, it’s been so long” the nickname filled your chest, heavy. suddenly it was impossible to move from where you sat. “i’m seeing someone..” a hand, on his chest as a half-assed attempt to defy him.

—

“s-satoru!” you sound so cute under him, clawing at his sheets. that little confession did something to him, made him want to punish you in the most primal way.

seeing someone? oh that’s not happening, not as long as he’s breathing will you ever be with another man. you’ll always be his pretty, little, obedient wife, who spreads her legs for him any time he pleases.

after all you’re still legally married. gojo refused to sign the divorce papers you sent him and eventually you stopped trying.

you could feel a vibrating pulse within the sheets, it was your phone ringing at a time like this.

“hello?” he answers the phone mid-fuck. “oh well if it isn’t your little boyfriend? i’m in the middle of fucking your girl silly, clearly you haven’t been doing it right..”

his pace increases to a gruelling speed, each thrust clapping against your ass, and it was fucking loud. “fuck! satoru please—! hang uuuuuup.” your begging only fuelled the fire, you needed to know who you belong to and so did your boy toy on the other line.

gojo can’t help but chuckle pridefully, watching you impaled on his cock, but he needed to hear it. no, the sounds of you practically crying while he fucked you wasn’t enough. he wants to hear you beg for him, praise him even. like a god.

“let him hear it wifey ♡︎” he frees a hand by placing the phone next to your head.

“tell him how much,” thrust. “you need your husband’s cock.” thrust. “i fuck so much better than him don’t i ?” thrust. “awe.. you cryin’?”

“need it—! want it satoru! you’re so— hahh! —good!” he was made to torture you like this, fucking you dumb into his mattress while making you spew naughty things for him.

you could feel his speed getting aggressive. beads of sweat falling down his toned tummy to his v-line, the two of you making a sticky mess from being skin to skin. you couldn’t think, mind hazy and full of him.

“fuuuuuck, how about i stuff you full? maybe i should give you another baby, ‘nother reason to be attached to me.” the hypnosis in his voice casts you further under his spell as he grunts sweet nothings into you ear while he pounded your pussy.

“love it,” you growl into his pillows. “i love you satoru! cumming…i’m cumming, please let me cum—” you could only focus on the high washing over your body as your legs begin trembling, muscles spazzing at your arousal tipping over the edge.

your desperation is music to his ears, his lust turning uncontrollable as he assaults your cunt fucking you hard, and deep. at this rate he’ll get you pregnant.

“cum for me, cum with me— shit!” he drawls, gritted through his teeth, bottoming out in his favourite fucking pussy. this feeling will never get old, fucking you will never not be his favourite pastime.

meanwhile the overstimulation teasing your cunt made you that much wetter, and tighter for him. you couldn’t take it anymore, you need it — need his seed sopping out of you. you didn’t even care about your boyfriend who was still listening to this live porn. gojo’s rewired that wondering brain of yours. back to him, in this house, on his bed, fucking his cock.

you might just even take him back.

his pleasure builds as he pumps into your cunt a few more times, before emptying inside of you. you could feel it, cunt full of him. his body collapses on top of yours, fingers intertwining on your hands while you both catch your breath.

“she’s not coming home.” the line cuts.

© SLUTTSUMU 2023 - please refrain from copying, reposting or translating.

[greycaelum]

Please this reminded me of kaleidoscope. I believe that the gojo kids are chunky babys🤣🤣

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8P9MEGg/

TRUEEEEEE~ I didn't get to give you anything last week so I'll make it a drabble~ I hope you like it! Chonky sunshine babies~ Happy December everyone!!

CW: suggestive hints at the end, nothing too much~

Kouki had breast milk for his whole first year.

"He's chonky..." Satoru rubbed his face against the squishy mallowy, chompable cheeks of his 10-month-old son you are feeding on your rocking chair by the engawa of your home. Satoru is sitting on the floor while watching you nurse the little boy close to drifting into dreamland.

Kouki has always had a good appetite and was very easy to nurse. So much so that you had to start scheduling his feeding or else if you didn't he would be too chonky and too heavy to lift.

"Can we keep him just like this? Look he's the most precious thing you probably have seen in your life!" Satoru rested his chin on your knees and flashed you his puppy eyes trying to convince you to feed the little mochi more.

"Chonky baby is cute but he'll drain me if I just let him." You kissed the thin sheen of hair on your son's head, as white as snow like his father. Kouki's lashes fluttered, unlatching from you, and he scrunched his nose to snuggle in your chest, yawning for a bit before closing his drowsy eyes back to sleep.

"I'll burp him, lemme..." Satoru opened his arms and gently rubbed Kouki's back. It didn't take long for the little mochi to burp. For some reason, he always burps fast when it's his Papa.

"Satoru don't!"

Chomp

Your eyes widen at your husband sneaking in a bite to the sleeping baby's cheeks, too cute to resist utterly waking a grumpy sleepy mochi.

"Satoru!"

Satoru rubbed the back of his head as he tried to soothe the little mochi up.

"Sorry Honey, he was just too cute to resist."

Saika although a pretty small baby has also been breastfed a year and 2 months because it took her quite a while to get used to formula.

It's 2:30 am and it's the Little Treasure's time for milk. Satoru is away for an overseas mission so you have to deal with the night feeding as well. Tired and reluctant, you parted ways with your soft pillow to reach for the bassinet only to be met with an empty space.

Chill ran down your spine as you shot up in panic only to be met by the scene of your drowsy husband sitting on your rocking chair with Saika in his arms suckling on her milk bottle.

"Go back to sleep Honey, I'll put her back after she finishes." Satoru yawned and smiled softly in your direction.

"But you haven't slept yet..." You felt relieved your daughter wasn't fussy. The little one is a little more sensitive and has been quite protected because of the incident before her birth.

"It's fine, look she's too precious when she drinks milk, I can't possibly take my eyes off her." Satoru grinned down at his daughter, suckling despite asleep. "She's so tiny... So precious..." He murmured as he held the bottle of milk for her. "She's perfect."

You smiled at them bonding in the wee hours of dawn as you returned to sleep. By the next morning, it came as no surprise to see Satoru cramped inside Saika's crib, sound asleep as the little Treasure blinked up to you innocently holding her empty milk bottle.

"Ma..mma!"

Bonus:

"What are you looking at?" You warily glanced at your husband when you asked him to help you with the hook of your bra since it's hard for you to reach. Pregnancy for the third time has made you quite adept in asking him for help since if you won't he will pester you and follow you around until he gets to help you with something.

Satoru hummed and kissed your nape, looking at the mirror as he hugged you from the back with his face slotted in the space of your shoulder. A proud smile adorned his lips as he slowly reached to cup your heavy breast and his other hand protectively caress your heavy baby bump sending shivers down your spine.

"You're so sexy, Honey." Satoru praised you peppering kisses to your skin as he sucks on your neck leaving a love bite before staring back at your reflection in the mirror with a satisfied smirk at your flushed state. "If your milk comes before the babies, can I have a taste test first?"

—GreyCaelum

PLAGIARISM IS A CRIME

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[tender-rosiey]

swear on love — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: I am alive!! better late than never but here’s my gojo coming back drabble (ceo gojo has been thrown into a corner)

something your son has learned is that if his dad, satoru, swears on his love for you then he will never break that promise.

like the first time he had asked his dad to take him to the amusement park he saw on the tv, satoru beamed, ruffling his son’s hair and telling him that he will.

when your son told him to promise him, satoru instead said, “I swear on my love for your pretty mama that I will take you there.”

it makes you flustered and makes your heart flutter—maybe even cringe a little, but who complains about having a man down bad for them plus he somehow makes it cute.

in addition to that, satoru never fails to look at you whenever he makes that promise and god knows that his gaze makes you feel weak in the knees.

he also goes to you right after, almost by instinct, to hug you and call you his ‘pretty wife’ and the ‘mother of his child’ — ‘and future ones’ he adds, but you’re quick to smack him when he does.

nonetheless, your son was quick to learn that it was the only type of promise his dad wouldn’t break.

it was october 31 when your husband has last made a promise to his son.

while the three of you were chilling in the living room, satoru was suddenly called for. he had to go to shibuya. your son was bummed, of course, but reluctantly let go of him.

“I won’t take any time buddy, don’t worry,” he said, patting your son’s head.

your son squirmed a bit before speaking up, softly, “you will come back safely, right?”

satoru simply noded with a smile.

your son, pouting –something he definitely inherited from his dad—looked up to him and stuck his pinky finger out, “you promise?”

your husband only chuckled, “I swear on my love for mama, champ.”

your son’s grin was unrivalled as he gave his dad thumbs up, “okay! I trust you!”

before departing, satoru took you in his arms and gave you one last kiss, giving you a promise of your own of coming back soon.

it has been 19 days since then.

everything has gone to chaos; everything was going wrong in all the possible ways. people you care about were dying left and right and the only thing you could do was protect your son with everything you got.

you’re often reminded of the time when your son had asked you, a week after his dad had been stuck in the prison realm, “mama, did dad break his promise?”

you could only smile sadly at him and whisper, “no, honey, he is just—going to fulfil it a bit late this time.”

now, you were with yuji, toge, shoko, and angel, along with some others, to finally get satoru of the prison realm.

yuji was a bit nervous and asked, “what if it…doesn’t work? or something happens—“

“don’t say that!”

all heads turn to your son who is barely holding his tears back, “dad said that he will be back! he promised me! he never breaks his promises!”

he looks at you, eyes pleading for assurance, “you know that, right, mama?”

tears of your own threaten to spill as you nod weakly at your son who runs and hugs you tightly, mumbling, “daddy will be back safely; I know it.”

you smile and pat his head, “I trust both of you.”

when they finally go through with the opening of the prison realm, it disappears right away.

your son’s grip on your shirt tightens as his eyes search frantically for his father everywhere around him, “where is he…?”

meanwhile, kenjaku smiles menacingly while looking at gojo, the newly freed man, “your wife and son must be pleased that you’re back, huh?”'

gojo smirks, “as am I, but I think it’s none of your business.”

both stare into each other before gojo quips, turning his back to the man, “well, I will meet you on december then!”

“oh? why is that?”

gojo stretches and walks to pick a few flowers. kenjaku is left confused as he watches the white-haired sorcerer make a bouquet.

“to put it simply, my wife and son are more important than you,” he smiles, “and I wouldn’t want to have two anniversary deaths on the same day.”

kenjaku cackles, “so you think you will win?”

satoru grins, “I will win.”

and without a word, he teleports to you.

“hey sweets!—“

you punch him in the guts and he yelps, “that’s not how you greet your husband—“

you then pull him into a very tight embrace, cutting him off once again, “I thought I lost you, asshole.”

you fist his shirt in your hand and bury your face in his chest before full on sobs escape you.

gojo’s eyes soften and he starts rubbing your back soothingly, “didn’t believe I would come back? you wound me doll.”

satoru nudges you lightly, “what do you think of the bouquet?”

you look at it and fondly roll your eyes.

he’s back.

your son runs to him screaming, “dad, you’re back! you’re back! I knew you would! i told them, but no one believed me!”

your husband picks your son up with his free arm and rests his forehead on his, “thanks for trusting me; sorry for keeping you wait.”

he’s here.

you shake your head, lightly, before nuzzling into his chest, “it’s okay…you’re here.”

“mama is right!”

satoru kisses both your foreheads before whispering, “I am here.”

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copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or I will domain expansion yo ass

[subbmissivesuccubus]

No Nut November ~

a/n. A request by my Patron for the month of November! It was quite the fun one. If you'd like me to write a story for you, please consider joining my Patreon! (link in bio)

Contains : Toji X Fem reader. No nut November antics. Toji being horny. Reader being a tease.

"Fuck-" you cursed, panting heavily as you lied back on the bed, finally getting a break. Your partner, Toji, lied down next to you, half as tired but just as satisfied. He hummed as his muscled relaxed, hot and sweaty from the numerous rounds of sex, completely naked as he got comfortable enough to drift into sleep.

You couldn’t help but frown at him, a bit annoyed at his satisfied and content expression while your body was crying from the over-stimulation. He had taken you over and over and over again, his stamina seemingly never ending as he fucked you multiple times in multiple positions. Even when you complained that you couldn’t take it anymore, he claimed that he’d make you take it. And after he pumped you with several loads of cum, he finally called it a night.

"You- you're such a horndog." you said. The man chuckled, manhandling you to get closer to him, placing you on his chest before giving you a sweet kiss on your hair. “You love it.” He teased, giving your butt a greedy squeeze, making you flinch as he touched the bright red mark he had left on your cheek before. 

This was your routine. Toji and you would go to work, you'd come back home, have dinner together before he took you to the bedroom and gave you the most toe curling, back arching, pussy squirting pleasure you'd ever experienced. The man had a huge dick and a ton of stamina, not going soft unless he's cum multiple times.

And it's amazing it truly is.

But after a while...it becomes a lot. There's only so many times your pussy can take a pounding before she gets sore and it starts to hurt even when you sit down. There's only so many times your nipples can get suckled on before any friction, even from your bra, makes them ache. There's only so many times you can wear a turtleneck before people connect the dots. You tried to say so to Toji, letting him know of your trouble but he either laughed it off, took is as a compliment and continued to fuck you silly regardless.

His desire for you and his constant want to have his hands on you was a big ego boost, but you needed a break and you figured out the perfect way to do it.

“Have you heard of something called No Nut November?” Toji snorted, looking down at you amused, “Sounds stupid. I’m guessing it means you don’t cum in all of November?” “Exactly. It’s an internet challenge. Think you can do it?” He chuckled again, not taking it seriously, “I have a beautiful girlfriend who I can fuck on a daily basis- why would I give that up for a dumb internet challenge?” “Hmm, thought so.” You said, acting unimpressed as you poked his nose, “There's no way you can keep your hands off of me for a month. You don't have the self-control. Why am I not surprised?"

Now, Toji knew what you were doing. You were baiting him, plain and simple. And was he going to fall for it? Of course not... but he didn’t like your tone.

"Wanna bet on that?" he asked.

You tried not to grin, the man falling for your trap hook, line and sinker. There was no way a man as proud as him would not rise to the challenge just to prove you wrong.

“Fine. From tomorrow until the end of December, you can’t cum.” You said, “That means no sex and no jerking off. If you fail, I get to decide when we have sex for at least a month.”

“And if I win, you are going to be my little sex doll I can fuck whenever I want with no complaints.” Toji challenged. You scoffed, more than confident that he wouldn’t be able to do it.

“Deal!”

~~~~~

One week had gone by and it was already hell. Toji had to will himself to not drag you into the bedroom every night, the condescending smirk on your face actually giving him motivation to keep going. Ever since he started dating you, sex was a common and daily occurrence so to have it taken away was difficult for him to navigate but he could do this. He was an adult with self-control and he wasn’t a horny teenager who needed to get their rocks off all the time.

But during week two, he wondered if he truly had the self-control he thought he did.

You were not making it easy for him, oh no. You were a naughty little minx and once Toji went by one week with no sex, you realised you needed to make him break. Whether it was make-out sessions with a bit more tongue than you normally use, or ‘forgetting’ to lock the door while you showered so he’d walk in on you naked, or going to bed in nothing but his oversized t-shirt, or asking him to give you a massage and letting out sweet, filthy little moans as he worked out the knots. These small things were piling up, riling the man up even more to the point where in a sweet kiss from you would make his dick hard. You were good. But he wasn’t giving up.

But neither were you. And you decided to ramp it up for week 3.

“…And what are you doing?” Toji asked, looking you up and down and undressing you with his eyes. You were standing by the bedroom door, looking absolutely stunning in a lingerie piece he hadn’t seen before. It was a beautiful lace red piece, the underwear framing your body deliciously. Your tits, your stomach, your ass and the heaven between your legs- all the blood instantly went to his cock just by looking at you.

“Tojiiii~” you cooed, walking over towards him, your hips swaying seductively as you reached him. He was sitting against the headboard of the bed, idly scrolling through his phone but the random video he was watching was all but forgotten as you crawled between his legs. Your tits were practically swinging in front of his face as you straddled him, the man unable to deny you as he placed a hand on your waist, running his fingers over the soft lace.

“I’m so horny, Toji~” you cooed, rubbing your hand up and down his covered chest, “I need you.”

“Nice try.” The man responded, snorting as he flicked your forehead with his other hand, making you gasp, “I know your game here, little minx. You’re not getting me to fuck you.”

“How mean.” You said, pouting adorably and showing off the lip gloss you had put on, “If you’re not interested, then this can probably go on past November-“ “Not a chance.” Toji growled, gripping your waist so tightly it made you gasp, “You know I’m owning that pussy once this month is up. So be a good girl and wait.” “Wait?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow, “Why do I have to wait? I’m not doing the stupid challenge.” You smiled at the way Toji’s eyes followed you as you got off of him, bending over in front of him as you reached for a familiar drawer in the bedside table.

“Just because you’re not going to fuck me doesn’t mean I can’t have fun~” you said, holding up your favorite wand vibrator as well as a thick, vibrating dildo. “It’s not as big as you, but it’s good enough~”

  What proceeded was the worst yet best night of Toji’s life. He watched as you pleasured yourself, your sweet moans echoing through the room as you fucked yourself with your toys. With the vibrator rubbing your clit and the dildo sliding in and out of your pussy, you practically gave him a private show. Your lingerie was still on your body but pulled aside to expose your breasts and your cunt, making you look so delicious he just couldn’t keep his hands to himself. He didn’t dare to touch himself as he helped you along with your session, growling dirty things into your ear as he took over and fucked your cunt with the dildo, working it way better than you could yourself, groaning in delight as he suckled on your nipples as he drove you over the edge.

His dick was so hard it felt like it would explode. But he wouldn’t budge. He wanted to- God he wanted to- but he was going to stay strong. The reward he’d get for sticking with this at the end of the month would feel way better than the momentary pleasure he’d get from rubbing one out. So he stayed strong. Days went by, feeling longer and longer and your antics growing more and more bold. Your masturbation sessions were happening often, you were walking around the house in skimpy clothing, he’d wake up and find that you had ‘accidentally somehow fallen asleep with your face close to his cock’ but try as you might, you couldn’t break him.

He increased the ice-cold showers. He took longer working hours to distract himself. He fingered you so he could remind you of how good he was going to take you once the month was up. Hell, he even took up meditation to try and ease the tension in his body. And finally. Finally. After all that hard work- he made it.

He did it. He actually did it.

He was on the last day of November.

A full month of no sex. No pleasure. No jacking off. His cock hurt and his balls ached so badly, dying for some release and he couldn't wait to get it. Tonight, when the clock strikes midnight, he was going to take you and pound the shit out of you- fucking you so hard you won't be able to walk for days. He made sure you knew it too. Throughout the day, he was whispering filth to you, growling in your ear and palming his cock in front of you, loving the blush on your face as he detailed all the bad and naughty things he was going to do to you tonight. There was no doubt you felt defeated and after this, he was going to break and punish you.

Just an hour. He could do this. He was going to do this!

He was lounging on the couch of the living room, not focusing on what was on the TV as his mind was occupied with lust when he saw you walk out of their bedroom and upto him.

"How do I look?" you asked, twirling around so he could see your outfit. It was a cute short dress with a pair of leggings and he hummed in approval.  

"You going out?" he asked.

"Yup!" you said, suddenly dragging a suitcase from behind you, "I’m going to my parents’ house."

Toji raised his eyebrows, his eyes widening. What?

What?

"Excuse me?" he asked, watching as you dragged your suitcase over to the door.

"Sorry, I forgot to mention it before." you said casually, clearly ignoring the expression on his face, "Last minute plan- you know how it is."

"Bullshit." the man snarled, walking upto you before slamming his hands on the wall behind you, caging you, "You're just trying to fuck with me, aren't you?"

"Whatever do you mean?" you asked, a curious tilt in your tone which told Toji all he needed to know, "I just miss home and I know you have a busy workday tomorrow so I didn’t think you’d want to come. That’s not a problem, is it? I’ll only be there for a week.”

“A week-“ Toji growled, nails digging into his fist as he still cornered you against the wall, “You’re not fucking serious.”

You shrugged, faking innocence, “I mean, is there any reason I shouldn’t go? I have a few days off from work and my mom has been begging me to come by someday. The train leaves in…” you checked your watch, ignoring Toji’s scoffs at your audacity, “thirty minutes. So I better get going-“

“You’re not going anywhere you little brat!” Toji snarled, his patience snapping. There was no way in hell he was going to let you leave and have you been gone for a week. He was confident you were just bluffing but he was not taking that change. With a growl, he bent down and threw you over his shoulder, making you yelp as you were suddenly held upside down. He gave you butt a sharp spank, a slap so hard it made you forget how to breathe for a second before he stormed towards the bedroom.

“Wh- what about the bet?” you asked once he threw you onto the bed, Toji immediately getting undressed as he practically ripped his shirt off.

“Fuck the bet.” He said, grabbing you by the ankles before he pulled you towards him, a feral look in his eyes as he fisted the fabric of your tights, “Fuck No Nut November. And fuck you.”

You gasped as he started tearing apart your tights, the fabric ripping away like paper as all he could think about was fucking you. You could see the imprint of his cock straining against his sweatpants, you man already hot and bothered and eager. Your heart was beating fast in your chest, the excitement over-riding the fact that you were going to win the bet. Once the tights were torn enough and before you could even get a second to complain, he flipped you onto your stomach.

He slid your panties to the side, so desperate for you that he couldn’t be bothered to properly undress you before he grabbed two greedy handfuls of your ass. You mewled under him as he squeezed, the man spreading your cheeks apart before he dove in, face first. You yelped as Toji took a long, rough lick of your pussy, the familiar sensation something you truly missed since the start of the bet. You gasped and moaned as he started feasting on your cunt, his thick tongue sliding into you and working you open, your pussy slowly getting wet for him.

Toji growled against you, the vibration making you feel even better as he got you hot and bothered. His cock was so hard it was genuinely hurting him, the sensation of your pussy against his tongue and the taste of your sweet nectar making him go into overdrive. But even your pussy wasn’t going to make him forget how you pissed him off.

“Mmph- this isn’t for you- got it?” he snarled, smacking your ass once to get your attention, “I’m getting this cunt wet enough to fuck my fat cock deep inside you. I don’t care if you feel good and I don’t give a shit if you cum or not- you’ve gotten enough of that this month.”

“Don’t be- ah- mean.” You protested, gasping as he suddenly pulled away from you and flipped you onto your back again. “Oh, I haven’t even gotten started.” Toji said as he grabbed the hem of your dress and pulled it up harshly, also not caring to take it off completely. All he wanted was access to your tits and once he pulled your bra upto your chin, he got what he wanted. “You’ll see just how mean I can be.”

He took a nipple into his mouth before you could say anything, not wanting to hear anything out of your lips unless it was moans, cries or apologies. He slid his fingers into your panties, his thick digits sliding between your damp pussy lips, the slick sound of the contact echoing through the air. Despite the attitude, he knew you missed him too. Dildos just didn’t compare to him.

He slid a finger inside you, the glide easy due to your wetness as he slowly but thoroughly started stretching you out for his cock. Your fingers were in his hair, tugging at it harshly as he suckled on your nipple, his tongue twirling the sensitive bud around before he bit down, making you yelp from the pain. You rocked your hips against his fingers, arching your back as he slid a second one inside you before scissoring you open just how you like it.

“Fuck- good enough.” Toji said, separating from your nipple (which he indeed sucked raw) and gently taking his fingers out of you. He knelt between your legs after he gave you a quick peck on the lips, pushing his pants down to reveal his cock. Your eyes widened at the sight, your pussy throbbing as you gazed at the member you practically hadn’t seen all month. It was rock hard and twitching, precum leaking out of the tip that was so red, you wondered if it would burn your tongue if you sucked on it. His balls were always big and heavy and you didn’t know if the time apart muddled your memory a bit but you swore, they were somehow bigger.

  “Spread those fucking legs- show me that pussy.” Toji said, gripping his cock before he started tapping it against your cunt, purposefully targeting your clit and making you tremble from each hit, “Look at that. So needy and dripping even though you fucked yourself on that dildo every other night.”

He spat on your pussy, making you gasp at the vile action but it made your cunt gush even more. He truly was using you like he owned you. His cockhead rubbed at the glob of saliva that was trailing down your cunt before he finally, finally pressed it against your entrance.

“I won’t last long, but I don’t care.” Toji said, rocking his hips lightly as he teased your hole, “You’re here to be my cum dump. You’re here for my pleasure, got it?”

You couldn’t help but he bratty even though every fibre of your being wanted to beg the man to just fuck you already: “Enjoy it since I’m winning this bet~” “Oh, are you sure about that?”

You frowned at his words before your eyes widened and you looked over at the clock to see that…it was midnight. November was officially over. And you had lost.

“That- ah!” you screamed loudly as Toji plunged his cock into you, his girth splitting apart your wet, velvet walls as he pushed into your cunt. He laughed as he got inside you, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he felt your pussy wrap around him, that sweet, amazing feeling of your walls squeezing him greedily. He grabbed your legs by the back of your knees before pushing them upto your chest, catching you in a mating press, driving his cock deep, deep inside you.

“Fuck! Fuck- fuck!” you squealed, the whiplash from realizing you lost to the sensation of your cunt being stuffed full for the first time in a month making your head spin, “I thought- you- fuck!” “Nice try baby.” Toji snarled, body trembling as he got to feel your cunt again, his balls already threatening to spill his seed inside you, “But you’re going to have to try harder- fuck yes- if you wanna beat me~”

He lifted his hips up and thrust into you again, both of you moaning as he stuffed his cock deep inside your delicious cunt. He started picking up the pace, the nasty sound of his balls clapping against your ass was music to his ears as he started using you. This was for him.

“You’re my toy now, understand?” he asked, tightening his hold on your legs and keeping you nice and folded for him, “my sweet little fuck toy that I’m going to use to break every. Single. Fucking. Night!” he thrust harshly at each word, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you felt his cock deliciously slide inside you, truly owning you. You hated to admit it, but you were secretly happy he won. As he pounded into you, you couldn’t help but remember how torturous this month was for you as well.

Sore pussy be damned, you were too addicted to Toji to give him up.

And while you swore you had more time before midnight struck, you were too cock drunk to think about it. Which was good for Toji as he thought ahead and might have changed the timing on the clock to make it a touch faster. But what you didn’t know wasn’t going to hurt you and by the time he was done with you, you’d forget how to count anyway.

[joelsflower]

little present | bfd!joel x f!reader

an: okay i know we’re in APRIL lmaoo sorry but i was listening to last christmas by wham! and the whole idea came to me. enjoy tho!! read it now!! reread it in december!! do whatever!! hope u like it!! :^) so yeah this is christmas themed a bit. sorry. also i apologize if i’m still mistaking “in/on/at” a bit too much, i’m still learning the language :/ hope it’s not too bad and doesn’t influence badly on your reading tho! no beta ops

wc: around 2.5k i believe?

tw: titty sucking and pussy fingering combo (yay!), beginning of blowjob but that’s it, soft dom!joel, older!joel (i imagine him on late 40s/early 50s and reader on early/middle 20s but up to you), best friend’s dad, teasing reader, teasing joel, teasing me, teasing you, reader is able bodied, afab but not described; there’s one part where “your smaller body” is used but in no way to describe reader, just to point she was smaller than joel. image also does not describe reader, only for visuals. no y/n. ALSO. weather not described!! shout out to us latinas who go through christmas sweating and panting 🫡 it can be snowing too tho up to you

🌹🌹🌹

You knocked three times on the door; unsure if it would sound impatient or even be heard due to the loud music and chatting coming from the inside. Sarah didn’t lie about the whole family coming this year for Christmas.

By the look on Joel’s face when he opened the door, your three knocks sounded more like the angels singing.

His big brown eyes lit up like candlelight when they found you. For a moment, you stood there in silent, letting him get drunk in your sight and you in his. The puffy bags under his eyes let you know it was a rough week, a rough week without you. The raspy, yet-to-make scruff adorning his cheeks and neck inciting your skin without even being near it. His calloused knuckles gripped the doorknob and the muscle on his bicep swelled, making your mouth water.

You let your eyes dance from his salt and pepper curls and finally to the little bit of chest peaking from the deep red plaid shirt, and when your eyes found his he broke the spell, letting out what seemed to be the first breath he took since he opened the door.

“Hi, sweetheart. Didn’t know Sarah invited you.” he shrugged weirdly, hand resting on his hip and the other on the door, like he was nervous. Due to college and construction, it’s been around one week since you’ve properly seen each other — it seemed like a whole year.

“Oh, hey santa” you joked, soft voice coaxing his tired ears, nodding to the santa hat hugging his curls. Suddenly, it was like he remembered he was wearing it and took it off, shoving it in his back pocket while making a face, biting back a smile when your giggle hit his ears.

“Uh- yeah, I wasn’t on the plans I think,” your fingers carved on the plate in your hand, and he gave you a “stop that” face, “she just called me last minute. But I have this!” you shook the plate of cookies a little, making it be noticed.

“Didn’t need t’bring anything, ya know. Just you’s enough.” silence once again put itself between the two of you, and if you were losing your mind, Joel could bet he was losing his a lot more harder. Opening the door to find the only sight that could relief his tired eyes on a beautiful red dress that hugged your body perfectly, matching see-through black thighs that allowed him to see just enough to drive him crazy and the need for comfort that he could well read in your gaze was not on his list, but was definitely a present.

Not being able to properly talk or touch you was feeling more like being on santa’s badlist, though. And maybe it was what he deserved, he thought, for fucking his daughter’s best friend and enjoying it so much.

You brought him back to life. What was he supposed to do if not give you the world and the best orgasms in it?

“Uh- come on in, then” he shook his desire away, holding the door open and watching as you passed by him.

One foot past the door and the chatter got louder. Uncles and sisters and cousins of cousins of cousins — there were a lot of Millers in this world, and all of them would be a problem if you wanted just a bit of closeness to Joel tonight.

“Thank you, Mr. Miller,” you looked up at him shyly, hoping treating him more formally would get you away in case anyone heard anything. Joel, on the other side, could not be less subtle while losing control of how hard he closed the door when your silky voice hit his ears, saying his name, thanking him. Just like you did when he held your wrists up your head and made your foggy bambi eyes roll back your head.

“Here,” he took the santa hat in his hands, stepping closer to put it in your head. The way his fingers carefully put your hair behind your ear set your body on fire, just the slight brush of its tips on your earlobe, the soft but swift strokes on your scalp to put your hair in place sending cold breezes up and down your spine.

“I missed you,” you whispered, lashes flourishing while your fingers boldly played the buttons of his flannel. You just needed to touch him.

But he didn’t answer right away, too focused on “putting the damn thing on your head”, which translates to an excuse to caressing your face and being close enough your sweet, peachy smell invaded his nostrils and messed with his brain chemistry.

“All done” your glossy eyes and quivering lips broke his heart in a million; all he wanted to do was take you in his arms right there. “Later, angel” he reassured you, taking your hand off of his shirt and giving you a softer look, that you knew was his way of apologising and comforting you for now. It was too risky, you knew that too.

“Oh gosh, you’re here, finally!” Sarah jumped on you for a hug, scaring the two of you, her bubbly energy warming you up. “Jesus dad, knew you’d hate it,” she gestured to the hat on your head, filling your mind with thoughts of him. “C’mon, you need to meet cousin Maria!” she dragged you away, the only thing connecting you to Joel being the lingering gaze you’d share for the rest of the night.

🌹🌹🌹

“Ha! Remember that, brother?” Tommy laughed about a story old enough to be your age; about one time him, Joel and their other cousin Frank went fishing and something apparently went wrong, you weren’t really paying attention though.

Not when Joel’s hand had found your knee under the table.

You just had to sit by his side cause Sarah wanted to be close to Maria that was close to Tommy that was close to someone else and the seat by Joel’s side ended up being the only one empty.

“Sit there by dad’s side, he doesn’t care. Here, gimme this,” she took the plate of sweets from your hands, setting it on the table. Joel, who was praying someone could come save him from hearing the same story for the 10th time, made space for you to pull the chair and accommodate your smaller figure by his side.

Around ten minutes into chatting with Sarah and Maria and taking food from left to right on the table, you felt his knee brush yours. The simple warmth of physical connection between the two of you made your whole body vigilant, in hopes for some more.

“Ya should be there, Sarah. Never not funny seeing your old man struggling t’get some fish” Tommy looked towards you, meeting Sarah’s and Maria’s giggles. Joel bit back a laugh, it was funny, yes, but he didn’t want to look like a stupid old man to you. That’s when you met him with a small smile and a brush of your thigh on his, inviting his hand to instinctively envelope your knee.

“Oh, I’ve seen him struggle to do less, believe me”

And I’ve seen him do more with the stamina of a teenage boy, you thought.

Joel’s hand snaked up a bit more into your leg, always careful to not be seen, but stern enough to make you feel him, invading the area of your inner thigh and dragging your dress up a little. The warmth of his large palm against the material pressing at your skin was driving you insane, the way his fingers were digging into your soft but covered flesh and his thumb squeezing at your outer thigh making your core pulse and the hairs at your neck stir up.

Mine, ran through his head.

“Both of you are on my badlist tonight, hope y’know that” he seriously pointed at Sarah and Tommy, giving them an angry-like look and the ones around you bursted laughing. You reached down a hand to lay on top of his, your smaller fingers gripping his much bigger pointer one, his thumb immediately brushing your hand, his way of saying “you’re not”.

🌹🌹🌹

“I think I need some air” you told Sarah as you got up from the couch and released her hand. Your tummy was full and your eyes were starting to get heavy. From the other side of the room, Joel’s eyes followed you to the balcony.

The peace of the outside of the house was everything you needed, trying to keep your mind from the trap of going into the Joel Joel Joel Joel to risky risky risky spiral. The moon lit up the sky and kissed your rosy cheeks, the singing of the crickets taking you away from all the buzz.

Just when you closed your eyes and breathed in the december air, you jumped when a strong hold surrounded your waist, the warmth of his chest hugging your back.

“Jesus, I— they’ll see us” you panicked.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” his other hand spread to pet on your tummy, paired with a kiss to your temple, “I checked, no one’s near. Wouldn’t want t’share you with anyone though, would I? Looking like my own little cherry on this dress” his fingers gripped the dress deep, sliding it up and down your waist a bit.

“I missed you so much” you turned around in his hold, arms wrapping around his neck and tugging at the curls at the base of his scalp. On your tiptoes you glued your body to his, closest as you could get, taking in the strong smell of his cologne that made your insides twirl. One of his hands danced down your spine to rest on your lower back, while the other held the back of your neck.

“Oh angel, missed you too, s’much. Can’t go a day without thinking about you, little one.” His deep voice whispered on your ear. Joel firmed his feet on the ground and swayed your bodies slowly left to right, calming you down. “Thinking about holding you, having you with me. About hearing your voice call me from the other side of the house and moan my name when I’m knuckle deep inside ya’”

“Joel!” You snapped his arm a little, staring into his eyes in disbelief.

“Am I lying?” he looked down at you with his rounded brown eyes, the same that could get you on your knees, mouth hanging open, with this exact same look he was giving you now. You shook your head slowly, fingers anchoring his shirt, “know you love it, baby, I love it too. Shit, should’ve found a way to see you earlier. I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” He rested his forehead on yours.

You distanced your head back and looked towards the living room, checking to see if you were still safe from prying eyes “want more of you,” you whispered.

Joel smirked, “Later baby, ‘kay?”

You stared up at him, no confirmation.

“Hm? Can you be my good girl and be patient?” He held your chin up with his thumb and pointer, forcing your gaze to be on his and nowhere else, “G’na be worth the wait, promise. But you need to be good f’me. Can you do that?”

“I can” you murmured, eyes closing as his hands found your sides and gave them a firm squeeze.

“Know y’can, darling. My best girl.”

🌹🌹🌹

“Shhh, c’mon angel. Know these precious little sounds belong to me only,” Joel’s deepened voice vibrated on your neck, his teeth grazing the soft skin and making your head go foggy.

It was a combination of it all, to be honest; his hot mouth and beard on your neck, you only in your underwear and thighs and him fully clothed, his thumbs mercilessly circling your nipples through your bra and his very hard bulge grinding against your pussy and his whole weight pressing you down against his bed.

It started when you both came back to the living room — in separate moments, of course — and then you needed to go the bathroom but the one downstairs was occupied and Joel suddenly needed to check on something very important in his room.

“P-Please, Joel,” you cooed, the pool in your cunt becoming unbearable, your wetness overtaking your poor excuse of panties and messing the front of his jeans.

“‘S okay baby, gonna take care of you,” he gave your mouth a peck, hands releasing your stiffed nipples to hold your face in his hand so his tongue could invade your mouth. “I’ma bad old man, ain’t I? Making my little girl wait for so long to feel good. Fisting my cock the whole week, thinking ‘bout this pussy swallowing me in. Bad, bad man.” you shook your head no in a desperate side-to-side move, fingers gripping his shoulders, as if taking his shirt off, but his force was pinning you down just right.

A sudden grind of his hips into yours and tears pooled on your waterlines, your hands stilling and your throat holding back a moan while Joel groaned at the feeling of his hard cock rocking against you. “That’s what you want, isn’t it, princess? To feel so, so good?” Another desperate nod. “Shh, c’mon baby. G’na make you cum for the week we lost.”

Joel used his hands to lift you by your armpits and sit you against his headboard, lowering his body and dragging your lacy thighs with him, torturously slowly. Now he was face-to-face with your covered pussy, “oh, poor baby. Feel her, angel,” he pressed his thumb up and down your core, your wetness gluing your panties to your slit, overflowing a bit around the lacy edges. “So desperate to be touched, ain’t she? Just waiting for me to take care of her. I will baby, don’t worry. Been such a good little girl f’me. Gonna stuff you full in a minute”

He finally tangled his fingers on the thin stripes of your panties, but first giving the little bow on top of it a little kiss. “My little present,” he murmured, more to himself then to you, but smirking when your core pulsed with his words.

The moment Joel’s fingers slid the lace down your legs and his hot breath ghosted your pussy, you were a goner; all your fuzzy brain could focus on were the strong pressure of his tongue on your clit and his fingers patiently circling your hole.

“Let me in, angel,” he begged and started to push two of his digits inside your pussy, his head now on the level of your cleavage, keeping himself from missing the reaction of his own little Christmas angel being finger fucked by him.

Your eyes screwed shut and your mouth fell open, making a little “o” shape when two of his thick fingers spread you open all at once, making you just so full. “My tight little princess,” he cooed, looking down at your pussy swallowing his fingers in and out, your juice covering his knuckles with each pump, deeper and deeper. The slick sounds of the obscene act you two were dwelling in almost distracted you from hearing Joel’s “who’s pussy is this?”

Instead of answering, your smaller hands held his face and pulled him into a kiss, a very wet, hot kiss, his tongue making home for itself inside your mouth and twirling around your own, teeth grazing at your lower lip hard enough to leave a mark and soft enough to leave you wanting more.

“It’s yours, Joel,” you finally gave him what he wanted, a string of spit connecting the two of you.

“Tha’s my girl.” He curled his fingers to brush at that spot that made your head cloudy and the back of your eyelids starry, pulling the sweetest, most desperate moan from your wet lips (both of them). “And tha’s my pussy, hm?” He watch attentively as your eyes got too hazy and your mouth too open to process what he was saying, “poor little thing, so good can’t even think straight.”

You caught Joel by surprise though, when your hand found his clothed cock, giving your best to grab at it as hard as you could, stroking him with your palm and thumb. Even so lazily, the action drove him crazy enough to lose himself in your neck, fingers still fucking your pussy full and beard leaving marks all over your skin.

Joel allowed himself to get lost in the feeling of your hot, pulsing cunt strangling his fingers and your small hand palming his cock to lower his head a little bit, teeth pulling your excuse of a bra to the side (or trying).

“J-Joel,” you plead, the delicate lace of your lingerie ripping like paper in between his teeth.

“G’na get you a new one, love. Lot’s of new ones.” He spent no time, greedily sucking one of your tits into his mouth, tongue languidly abusing your nipple. His mustache hurting the soft skin of the area while his warm spit and velvety lips caressed the burn.

Feeling your pussy pulse and pull him hard, Joel increased the pace of his fingers inside you and directed his attention to your other boob too, his spit lingering all over your chest. “Pussy gripping me real tight, baby, wanna cum, don’t ya? I’ll let ya, c’mon. Cum all over me, little girl.”

And you did. Pussy squirming his fingers and almost making them a part of your own body, lips hanging open with nonsense babble followed by muffled moans and cries, nipples stiff and hard by the overstimulation.

His own little present, as he himself put. All for him.

Joel helped you calm down with sweet kisses to your cheeks and lots of “did so good to me, my little angel”, “missed you having you like this”, “my best girl, makes me so happy, baby”.

“Y’with me?” he nosed at your temple and noticed your eyes turn brighter, the small nod of your head bringing you back to a fully conscious state of mind.

“Open.” he positioned the tip of the fingers that were once inside you on your lower lip, your mouth instinctively hanging open to welcome him inside. “That’s it, ‘atta girl,” he rewarded as you sucked his fingers clean from your own mess, realising why his eyes became so dark with the action.

He hadn’t come yet.

You pulled your mouth from his fingers and kneeled between him and the bed, hands gripping his bulge shamelessly.

“Still gotta clean you up, angel. C’mon, we can do that later. Jus’ wanted t’take care of you.” he held your chin up to gather your attention, a failed attempt, you knew he needed it as much as you.

“‘S okay, I wanna. Just gonna suck on it a little.”

“My sweet girl,” Joel complimented as his palm held the whole side of your face, your bambi gaze distracting him while you worked both his pants and underwear down his legs.

With your mouth only inches away from his girthy, veiny cock that was proudly bouncing in front of your face, you gripped at the thick hairs at his base and gave the swollen, ruddy tip a mouth-open kiss, silky lips enveloping the head while his precum oozed down your tongue and a deep groan left his throat, your fingers gripping his base as your thumbs caressed his balls. You found his gaze again, pulling the most sincere, grateful and innocent look you had.

“Merry Christmas, Joel.”

🌹🌹🌹

[coco-loco-nut]

Miss Americana

Pairing: Lando Norris x American!Reader

Summary: Moments with Lando and his silly, American, girlfriend

TW: AMERICA! RAHH🦅

a/n: i wrote this super quick bc the ideas were bombarding me at work and it is not proofread. it’s also silly and stupid as an apology for my last oneshot which seemed to break y’all.

requests are open! masterlist part two

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Lando didn’t mind you were American, in fact, that might be why he loved you. You poked fun at his britishness, even trying to copy his accent. It’s almost like a joke with you two.

“Baby, where are you?” Lando whines from his gaming chair, needing attention, having texted you a minute ago asking you for cuddles.

“I’m declaring my independence!” You yell back, your voice coming from outside. He pauses his game and trudges towards your voice. The two of you are spending time in your American residence, near Miami. He spots you near the pool, holding something out.

“Baby, what are you doing?” He spots your camera recording.

“Happy December 16th!” You grin, dropping a box of tea into the pool. Lando’s brows furrow, thinking back to the book he read about the Revolutionary War. Needing to have some sort of reference for your jokes, he bought a book with the basics to read on the flights to races.

“Oh… I get it. Babe, we aren’t even IN Boston,” Lando says after a minute, and after you start laughing, he does too. Lando quickly grabs your phone and pushes you in the water too.

“Rude,” you huff, grabbing the tea box and climbing out of the pool. If it weren’t for your grin, Lando would be running away. You grab your phone and Logan pops out from behind the bushes as Lando’s phone dings.

“Wait, I thought you were recording,” Lando says, his eyes narrowing at Logan.

“Nope,” you pop the p and walk inside, the video quickly going viral and spreading around the drivers group chats. Logan makes his quick escape, leaving Lando to wonder why he agreed to associate with Americans.

———

“GO GO GO GO! YES! TOUCHDOWN!” You yell, seemingly oblivious to the cold. Lando surprised you with a trip to your alma mater’s biggest football game of the season. He asked Logan for help with the surprise, but the Floridian didn’t mention, well, how much of a cult the school was.

“Logan said it was going to be cold, but not this cold,” Lando grumbles, taking a cute pic of you cheering.

“Babe, he has terrible taste in schools, why would you take his advice? Also, this is the northeast, it’s obviously going to be way colder than Austin will be next week,” You snort before joining in on a chant. Lando was only slightly regretting choosing seats right beside the student section, however, he could get behind the drinking. Especially tailgating. When you drug him out of his nice warm bed to hang outside the stadium at 9am with your old college friends, he was skeptical. All it took was one freshly grilled meal and a beer to turn that around. He is planning on creating an American tailgate for the race next week in Austin.

“American universities are... something else,” Lando smiles at you. Seeing as you are only one year removed from college, you had plans for the weekend.

“Just wait until we go to the bars later. Oh! And the frat party tomorrow, it’s family weekend and my cousin is getting us in,” you smile back at him. It was indeed a long, drunk, weekend, but Lando couldn’t help but admit that he would be more than happy to come back for more games throughout the year.

———

Austin was something else the next weekend. You and Logan were quick to jump on board with Lando’s idea for a tailgate, and you all gathered at the Airbnb that you rented the night before the race, right after qualifying. The team’s socials loved the idea as well as the Formula One social media team, so you paid for nothing as the drivers and friends gathered at the Airbnb for your and Logan’s tailgate. You made sure there were multiple coolers full of alcohol, soda, and water while Logan manned the grill. You wore a NFL football jersey while Logan repped a Miami Dolphins jersey.

“Why are those two arguing,” Max asks Lando, observing you and Logan fight about whose team is better.

“Either college football or pro football,”

“American football, mate,” George says, standing on the other side of Max.

“All I’m saying is that you have TERRIBLE taste in teams!” You huff in Logan’s direction. He rolls his eyes, turning his focus to the grill as you grab a beer. Lando, who is sporting your alma mater’s football jersey, walks over to the two of you.

“She’s not wrong, Logan,” Lando chuckles as the blonde boy throws his arms up in the air in frustration. Honestly, the only thing that can top the bickering between the both of you is when you pull out the jell-o shots and people start grabbing food.

Half an hour later, you turn on the projector to the screen, a Disney logo behind you. You take position in front of the screen, remote in hand as a microphone. The crowd turns their attention to you. Lando’s lips twitch up in amusement.

“I just got three things to say. God bless our troops. God bless America. AND GENTLEMEN. START YOUR ENGINES!” You yell as you hit play on the remote.

“Okay, focus. Speed. I. Am. Speed.” The voice says over the screen. You and Logan decided to culture everyone, making the end of the tailgate partly a movie night. Eventually, everyone finds a seat in the lawn chairs scattered in front of the screen. Lando grabs your hand and kisses the back of it when you sit down.

“I love you, y/n,” he smiles softly as he nurses his beer.

“Love you more, Lan, but not as much as America,” you chuckle, teasing him. He playfully rolls his eyes, knowing you are jesting.

“Are you always so… American?” Daniel laughs as he sits in the open chair beside you.

“Shut up before she drunkenly sings the national anthem,” Lando hisses, cringing at the time he mistakenly took you to a karaoke pub in London on July 4th. Honestly, he should’ve known better.

“I hate you all,”

[phoneuserhana333]

.°˖✧ neighbor!doctor!abby / neighbor!producer!reader nsfw headcanons .°˖✧

tags: enemies to lovers, dom!abby, emotional sex, loser!abby tbh, perv!abby, voyerism, overstimulation, fingering (reader receiving).

PART1 — PART2 — PART3 — N(SFW)HC

• before you two even started dating, abby thought you were hot. too friendly, annoying and a menace, but hot.

• she spent countless bedtimes with her hand down her pajama pants, panting your name into the cold new york night. and when her release arrived, she would feel embarrassed, but that wouldn’t stop her from hugging her pillow and imagining it was you.

• you could say that abby was suffering from a severe case of i-can-fix-heritis. and you were the reason.

• one day, abby came back from work later than usual. her eyes, which instinctively lingered on your windows (she liked to know if you were home or if she had a few hours of peace and quiet), caught a glimpse of something interesting

• you. completely undressed, in the smallest pair of see through red underwear, semi-hidden by curtains. abby froze, her darkened eyes not leaving your body. it took her a second to realize that you were dancing, perhaps getting ready?

• her eyes tore away from your hips and found your breasts; one gently cupped by your hand as you fixed your hair and looked around your room. she stared at your nipples and god- why were they hard?!

• abby’s wakeup call was when you reached down for something, ass facing the window which revealed a rounded outline of your pussy lips. but what really caught her eye was a tiny wet patch, darkening the red fabric.

• it’s safe to say that abby ran inside, eager to shove her fingers into her cunt and thrust trust thrust as quickly as she could handle until she felt the heel of her palm bump her clit. why the fuck were you wet?!

• abby couldn’t look at you in the eyes for the next week.

• a few weeks after this incident, was the first time you fucked. december rolled around and most of your friends were celebrating the holidays, leaving you alone in the city, playing loud ballads all day to drown your sadness and the seasonal loneliness.

• abby came back from work late, noticing the lights were on and the music was loud. but when she noticed the lack of voices in your home, a feeling that something was wrong came over her.

• she couldn’t help but walk up to your door and knock.

• she was greeted by an equally tired, tear stained face. you turned the music down, apologizing quietly and trying to shut the door, which abby stopped with her palm.

“wait- do you… wanna come over? it’s christmas…”

“… to do what abby? we don’t really like each other.”

“we’ll figure it out.”

• and so you found yourself inside your enemy/hot neighbor’s home with a small overnight bag. abby made dinner, you opened a bottle of champagne.

• it felt… nice. domestic even. it made you emotional all over again. one and a half movie later, you felt tears stream down your face, and you unexpectedly hugged abby.

• this was the first time you two touched each other, and it set abby ablaze. you were soft and you smelled nice, your chest was pressed against her and the small of your back was perfect for holding on while-

“hey, um. thanks for inviting me over. i had a really shitty day.”

• abby nodded, pressed you closer and shushed your cries. she pondered, would she ruin the moment if she asked- was it too soon?

“i can make it better, if you want?”

• and so you ended up whimpering on her couch, legs pushed up into a mating press, with abby’s burning hot mouth on your clit, and two deliciously thick fingers pulsing against the most sensitive spot you didn’t even know you had.

“c’mon baby, thaaaat’s it. such a good girl when you wanna be”

• abby moved up to kiss you, shushing your whimpers and moans as her fingers still worked you open, now rougher than before.

“sound so pretty, sweetheart- fuck”

• in that moment, abby appreciated how angelic your voice was; she always thought you were a good singer, but you moaning her name desperately solidified that. she connected your foreheads, glancing down at your needy pussy as she sped up her pace, causing your back to arch.

“you wanna be good and cum for me, hm? you wanna be good for abby?”

• and with that you were sent over the edge, trembling legs closing involuntarily, only to be pushed open by abby’s firm hand- she wanted to see your pussy spasm around her fingers. her icy gaze was glued to your body, you were so tight when you came that it made her feel dizzy. her pace slowed down and she felt your body relax, pussy still twitching around her fingers. her eyes searched yours to see if you were okay, making you feel strangely fuzzy.

• just when you were about to grab abby’s arm and pull her down to meet your lips for a kiss, you felt her pace start up again, fast as ever, leaving you a wide-eyed choked up moaning mess. you were too sensitive and abby was smirking, one hand holding your legs open and while the other fucked you into overstimulation, thumb finding your puffy clit.

“not done with you yet. gotta pay me back for being a bad neighbor, don’t you princess?”

• abigail anderson whispers against your lips, kissing your moans away as she continued to finger fuck you. christmas isn’t bad at all, you think.

[whorekneecentral]

The Night Before Christmas

Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader

Warnings: snow storms, delayed flights, slight disappointment, mention of a christmas miracle, hitchhiking - don't worry andrea is there for adult supervision, incorrect ski terms and whatnot - idk I don't ski, old ladies love joris, fear of flying/small planes, oral (f!receiving), penetrative sex (p in v), creampie, cuddles in bed.

Word Count: 2,225

Author's Note: so sorry for the delay in posting this, I've been in a bit of a slump lately and im trying to get back on schedule with the posting, bare with me lmao

merry smutmas series

--

A massive snow storm delays Charles’ flight home for the holidays and you both begin to give up hope but a Christmas miracle occurs.

Christmas was a bit of a mess this year.

December 24th and Charles Leclerc was stranded in Italy with Andrea and Joris. Charles had gone because he had a Christmas event to do with Ferrari, Joris and Andrea had accompanied him but they decided to go up north and go skiing for the remainder of the week.

They hadn't planned to push it so close to Christmas and then the snow came down; the stupid snow which blocked the roads and left them stranded in the mountains of Italy.

You were a bit disappointed when your boyfriend called to tell you that he wouldn't be able to make it home in time for Christmas. You asked him if there was anything you could do and he told you because of the snow, he wasn't exactly sure when he'd get home.

Charles could hear the disappointment in your voice, and it made him sad to know that he wasn't gonna be able to be home in time to spend Christmas with you.

It was as if Andrea could read Charles' mind; "what?"

"We have to get out of here, we need to go home."

"I know," Andrea tells him, Joris looks up from his laptop, "everything is closed, the roads, the airport, like.. we're stuck."

Charles was nothing if not determined. He made it his mission to make it home in time to spend Christmas with you - bit of a tight task considering it was 10pm on Christmas eve. Nonetheless, he and the boys rallied up - not like Joris or Andrea had a choice - and followed Charles out of the ski resort.

They made it about 2 miles down the road trudging through the snow before they finally came across a ski ranger, the man on his way down the mountain to pick up something they needed on the resort. He was kind enough to let them get in, the 3 of them squished into the back seat as the ranger drove them down. Due to the snow, it took them triple the time to go down than it took to go up but it was progress nonetheless.

Once they made it to the town, they were at crossroads again. How are they going to make it to the airport?

It was a one step at the time sort of plan, if they thought too far ahead, they'd just give up.

Joris wanders into the one place that was still open, a little bakery that was run by the older couple that lived there and they had a grandson who lived not too far off from the airport. The roads were cleared down there but they had no car.

The couple happened to be closing up for the night and on the way to their grandson's, the older woman took a liking to Joris, holding his arm as he led her over to their car.

"Charles!" Joris shouts, waving his friend over. Andrea and Charles wandering over. "Yeah?"

"This is Maria, she and her husband are on their way to grandson's, who lives like-" "He lives five minutes from the airport, let us take you."

"Are you sure?" Charles asks her, as much as he wants to get home, he wouldn't want to put a sweet old woman out of her way.

The woman pinches Charles's cheek, "yes please, I cannot leave you out in the cold. Come, come." She tells him, Andrea helps the older gentleman put all the luggage into the trunk, the 5 of them getting into the car - Charles, Joris and Andrea squished into the backseat again.

The older gentleman, Joe, was just as sweet and welcoming as his wife. They told them stories from when they moved there, how they opened their bakery and their family. As much as Charles appreciated their kind gesture, he was wondering if maybe he should have offered to drive them to the airport.

At some point, an excruciatingly long 3 hour drive - Joe drove slower than most, they made it to the airport.

Maria rolls the window down, saying goodbye to Joris. The photographer holds her hand as she calls for Charles. "Make sure you come back! And bring your girlfriend."

"We will, thank you both so much. I don't know what I can do to repay you."

"Take us to the race next year," Joe calls from next to his wife. Charles laughs, "sounds good, I'll come back and bring your passes."

The 3 of them run into the airport, the boards in front of them display only one word listed to all of the flights - canceled.

Big, bold, red letters crush Charles's heart and his chances of getting home.

Joris pats his friend's shoulder, Andrea already one step ahead of them trying to see if they were anything they could get on to make it home in time - after all, he wanted to get home to his family too.

It's an hour of Andrea bickering with the very tired and annoyed woman behind the counter before Charles joins him, asking her if there was anything they could get on to go home.

The flight to France was 2 hours, he'd manage anything at this point.

"There's one flight, a small passenger plane. I'd have to ask the pilot first."

"Please," Charles says, "I'll pay extra if I need to."

After what felt like another hour the woman finds them and tells them to follow her; she checks them in, getting their passes to them before directing them to where they'd meet the pilot for their flight.

When she said it was a small plane, Charles was expecting small but not this small.

The plane looked like those water planes you'd take from the mainland to an island - it didn't hold more than 6 people.

Charles is just clinging to his seat, counting down the minutes until he can get off that plane. He feels his ears pop, the thud as the plane meets the runway in Nice and he's thanking every god out there for that. They thank the pilot, trying to figure out if they should take the train or just drive home.

None of them have a car at the airport and thank god, it wasn't snowing.

It was Christmas morning, the airport was a madhouse and Charles didn't typically do this but he did use his F1 status to get them a rental, he signed a few autographs for the staff behind the counter and they were off again.

The sun is peeking over the Monaco pier, Andrea drove them home because Charles was too antsy to drive. They dropped him off first.

"Thank you guys, really." He says, standing on the curb with his suitcase.

"We didn't have a choice," Joris tells him jokingly, Andrea nods. "Tell y/n we said Merry Christmas."

"I will," Charles smiles, wishing his friends well before waving them off.

It was good to be home; the man made his way up to your shared apartment, the lights off as you were still sleeping - your soft snores filling his ears as he quietly made his way to the bedroom.

You're tucked away under the covers, the blanket wrapped you up and kept you warm during a lack of Charles in bed. He knew you were a deep sleeper, the fact that he had accidentally slammed the door and it hadn't woken you was sign enough.

He stripped out of his clothes, making his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth. At some point he thought he heard you shift, he peeked out the door way to find you still sleeping.

Charles joined you in bed shortly after, his arm snaking around your waist, the coldness from the bracelet he had on startled you. Your body responded before you could, taking a second to gather your thoughts - the fight or flight kicking in.

He presses a kiss to the back of your shoulder, the smell of his cologne and toothpaste filled your surroundings. "Charles, you're home," you whispered, turning to face the man.

You couldn't fully believe it, not after his call last night, telling you that he wouldn't be making it home.

Your boyfriend smiles, kissing your forehead. "I'm here."

"How?" You mumbled, moving closer to him. Charles's hand presses to your back, rubbing the bare skin softly. "It's a long story, for another time."

You hum, not really caring for the story at the moment. All that matters is that Charles was home and he was home for Christmas. You opened your eyes slightly, peeking at your boyfriend. Both of you wore the same sleepy look - you having just woken up and Charles after a long night of traveling.

You kissed his chin, the man hummed in response. You follow the structure of his face, moving from his chin to his jaw and up to his sideburns, down his cheeks and finally to his lips. Charles pulls you flush against him, his lips holding your hostage.

It had been a long week apart and you both missed each other terribly. Andrea often says you two are like high school kids, all young and in love.

Your arms wrap over his shoulders, pulling the man on top of you. Charles settled himself between your hips. Your boyfriend pulls away from your lips, much to your dismay and finds himself moving down to your neck, along your collarbones and to your chest. Now propped up on your elbows, you watch as your boyfriend's head dips, his teeth softly grazing your stomach on his way to between your legs.

Charles glances up at you and pulls your panties to the side. He was close enough that you could feel his breath on you, your head dropping back when his tongue finally met you.

You look down at your boyfriend between your legs; the man smiling up at you as his arms hook your thighs to pull down flat on his face. 

Your hips buck when you feel his tongue against your clit, your hand gripping on his hair. Charles’s hand on your hip rocks you back and forth slightly, just enough that he can hear his name fall from your lips. 

Your hand rests on his cheek, “I can't believe you're home.” Your eyes meet his blue ones. 

“I'm right here, baby.”

You pull him back down for another kiss. Charles’ hand slips between the two of you, thumb pressed to your clit. Your back arches from the sudden touch, moaning against his lips. 

Charles smiles, his heart fluttering every time knowing he’s the one that reduces you to nothing more than a whimpering mess. 

“Please,” you pull on his hair, “Charles.” 

“What?” He asks, rubbing circles with his thumb. 

You can’t help the whimper slipping past your lips. “Fuck me, please.” You ask sweetly and how could he ever say no to you? 

Charles finds himself moving to hitch your leg on his hip, lining himself up with you before pushing into you. Your back arches and he gives you a second to adjust to him before moving. You’re biting your lip so hard, you probably drew blood.

Your hand drags down his torso, pressed against his toned stomach when you speak. “You feel so good,” you whisper, knowing you can’t speak any louder.  

“Yeah?” He calls, hand slipping between the two of you. 

Your red nails, painted for the holidays, digging into his skin, leaving matching red marks matching the colour of your nails against his pale skin. “Fuck- please yes.” 

Charles doesn’t quit; his fingers rubbing on your clit, the other hand moving your leg from his hip to rest over his shoulder. Just when his ego couldn’t get any bigger, it did. The 16 hanging off the silver chain around your neck, sitting flat against your sternum. 

He can’t help but lean down and press a kiss to it, in the process pushing your leg back. The sound that left your mouth was nothing if not music to his ears. 

The sudden ego boost, Charles takes his chance to ask you. “Who makes you feel this good, amour?” 

You’re trying to answer him but between keeping the same position and his excruciating pace, you couldn't bring yourself to answer him. 

Charles asks again. “Who makes you feel this good, amour ?” 

A strangled answer slips past your swollen lips; “You, only you Charles.” 

The answer satisfies his ego, his focus is making you cum. His hips hitting the back of your thighs, your boyfriend has now moved your other leg over his shoulders. 

“Charles-” you call, your eyes meeting his. He can feel the way you’re clenching around him, his hand moving back to your clit. 

“I know,” he hums, “me too.” 

A few more sloppy thrusts and both of you fall over the edge, one after the other. Charles kisses by your ankle before letting your legs down, settling against you between your legs still. 

Passing a hand through his hair, you smile at your boyfriend; his eyes all droopy and a sleepy smile on his face.

"You're here," you whispered, he nodded and his stubble scratched against your bare skin. "I'm here."

You hum quietly, the sun shining through the curtains in the room, the two of you cuddled up in each other's arms.

"Shall we open gifts?" Charles asks and you shake your head, "they're not going anywhere, let's stay in bed for a bit longer."

He smiles, pressing a kiss to your soft skin. "I like that idea."

--

taglist:  @nosugarallspice @evieepepi08 @mimithepooh @koufaxx @dannyramirezwife-simpaccount @topguncultleader @molliemoo3 @aisharmi @mamako23 @ac3may @lewislcver @miahgonzalez16 @books-and-netflix-pls @wibi96 @bwddermilch @pedrisgatorade @clarasenchant @sainzluvrr // @forza55 @norrisleclercf1 @allalngthewtchtower @therealcap @burningcupcakefire @stargirl36 @brettlorenzi3 @guiseppetsunoda @magnummagnussen @flippingmyshit @savrose129 @lovelytsunoda @irda12-blog @dhhdhsiavdhaj @slytheringirlthatkillpeople @f1lovers22 @toomuchdelusion @eviethetheatrefreak @faye2029 @lillians-world-is-f1 @chalando1604 @lenaxwbr @im-obsessed @potashiuhm @lcxlerc16 @enjoythebutterflies3 @lillyfootballsworld @micksmidnights @mashtonbunny @chrlsleclerc @logischeroktopus

[dalishious]

A BioWare Guide on How to Murder a Fanbase

I have been a Dragon Age super-fan for almost fourteen years, now. I have played every game, with every DLC. I have read every novel, lore book, and every comic — yes, even the terrible ones that are better off forgotten. I have seen the anime film, the animated series, and the web mini-series. I have enjoyed all of these pieces of the franchise over and over, more times than I can count. So, make no mistake: the negativity you’re about to hear comes from a place of love for this fantasy world, developed by many creative people over the years. I would love nothing more than to see the resurrection of passion in the Dragon Age fandom again. But the unfortunate truth is, that resurrection is only needed because BioWare took the fandom out back and shot it in the first place.

In December 2018, three years after the release of Dragon Age: Inquisition’s Trespasser epilogue DLC, BioWare first announced the then-untitled next Dragon Age game with a teaser trailer. At this point, most fans were anticipating this would mean within the next couple years, we would see the game. This assumption was based on the fact that Dragon Age: Inquisition was first announced in 2012, and released in 2014, with an extra year of development added last minute.

There have been dribbles of extra content since then, adding to the franchise. This was enough to keep some fans still breathing and interested. 2020’s Dragon Age: Tevinter Nights was a lovely anthology. 2020’s Dragon Age: Blue Wraith and 2021’s Dark Fortress were wonderful comics tying up the story started in Knight Errant. And 2022’s Dragon Age: Absolution was a well-animated series with an interesting cast of characters and story. But all these still left the fandom with a major question: What was going on with the next game? It was untypical of BioWare to be so secretive, in comparison to how they handled sharing information of the past games in the franchise. The only form of updates fans still have to go on is mostly just concept art and short stories, hinting that something must be in production. But why was the wait so long?

In 2015, the first version of the next Dragon Age began with a clear vision, clear scope of practice, and a reportedly happy developer team. Most gloriously in my book, there was no multi-player… but this did not align with the Electronic Arts typical money-mad schemes. EA’s push for “games as a service” meant they wanted to monetize all their games as much as possible, and therefore, they wanted them to be a live service — as Anthem demonstrated, that meant sacrificing things that are staples of good RPGs, like narrative and character choice. So in 2017, version one of the next Dragon Age was scrapped and replaced. This new version would have, in total or to at least some degree, an online portion of play.

There is one part of Schreier’s article, “The Past and Present of Dragon Age 4,” that really sticks out to me, regarding this:

“One person close to the game told me this week that Morrison’s critical path, or main story, would be designed for single-player and that goal of the multiplayer elements would be to keep people engaged so that they would actually stick with post-launch content.”

The idea of splitting up components of a game into single-player and multi-player is a terrible idea, because it means that there would be a large bulk of content only accessible through online gaming; something many fans, like myself, are repulsed by. Even if I did enjoy it, I spent most of my life growing up with either no internet or shoddy internet incapable of playing online games. I know many rural people who are still in that position, losing more and more of their favourite gaming pastimes because they are locked out of the ability to play them. It is a disservice to hide content behind a wall like this, especially in a world that is so lore-heavy like Dragon Age. The news of multi-player in Dragon Age understandably upset many, and this is when I first noticed a large drop off in excitement over the next game.

However, in 2021, the failure of Anthem (multi-player) and success of Star Wars Jedi: Fallen Order (single-player) led the executives at EA to bend to the wishes of BioWare leadership and allow them to go back to the drawing board yet again on the next Dragon Age. This meant removing all multi-player content!

While I am very happy that there will reportedly be no multi-player in Dragon Age: Dreadwolf, I can’t help but feel bitter and a little disgusted over the ridiculous development time spent on something no one but EA wanted in the first place. If it weren’t for this foolishness, Dragon Age: Dreadwolf would be in our hands right now. Instead, it’s been in development hell for nearly nine years and counting. Nine years is a long time to expect fans to carry a torch for you through radio silence, but it’s no wonder BioWare has shared barely anything about the next game; it’s been in flux for so long, they likely haven’t had anything concrete to show.

BioWare hurt its reputation even more when the news broke that the studio very suddenly laid off 50 people who were working on Dragon Age: Dreadwolf. This is pretty damning on its own, but BioWare took it a step further. Former developer Jon Renish shared a statement revealing that the studio was only willing to offer laid-off employees two weeks of severance per year of service, and denied health benefits. The denial of health benefits in particular is a pretty wild move for a studio with a reputation for “stress casualties”. The latest news on this is that BioWare has still so far refused to negotiate better severance packages, leading to a lawsuit. The lawsuit originally had 15 former employees, but this dropped due to the fear of not being able to afford to pay their bills. So now, while EA sits on $400 million net income, the laid-off employees are struggling to buy holiday presents for their children. These horrid business practices are not to be ignored when accounting for a lack of faith in a studio. What kind of monsters reward workers who make your games special with vaguely reasoned lay-offs?

The latest news on the Dragon Age: Dreadwolf front from BioWare came early this month, December 2023, with a trailer… announcing a trailer that will come next summer… that will announce the release of the game. Supposedly. Maybe. We’ll see. But by this time, BioWare is something of a laughing stock of their own fandom. Reactions to the video released with a pretty map graphic and a few rendered locations were, from what I personally observed, mostly sardonic in nature. People have commented on the vapourware nature of the game, and like all vapourware, that leads to disintegrating trust.

Despite all this, people like Mary Kirby, (one of the veteran Dragon Age writers who was a victim of the layoffs,) said, “it’s bittersweet that Dreadwolf is my last DA game, but I still hope you all love it as much as I do,” encouraging fans to still support the game when it eventually is released. But after every misstep BioWare has taken, that’s a tough sell now. Fans are finicky, RPG fans more so than others, one could argue. We have our favourites, and many of us stick to those favourites for life over our appreciation for the artistry — but that relationship between studio and fan should go both ways. EA and BioWare has betrayed that relationship, and it will take a hell of a lot to build it back up again, now.

[This piece is also available on Medium!]

[revasserium]

hiii i'm a new follower and i love your writing so much

ik u said no requests in ur bio but i just finished reading ur sanji fic.. so even if ur still not taking requests i'd just like to throw in an idea that u may or may not feel like using in the future, up to you (i'm requesting this with opla sanji in mind but if u wanna use it for zoro that's cool too)

k so imagine reader being invited to a friend's wedding, & being excited to go until they find out their ex is coming too (with their partner of some amt of yrs). so now reader is pressured to bring someone w/ them & ends up asking their best friend sanji bc they don't want others thinking they're still hung up on the past.

wedding dress

opla!sanji; 6,544 words, pining with a happy ending, fluff and a tad of angst, flirting, lovesick!sanji, whipped!!!!sanji, no "y/n", zeff is a whole mood, confessions, sanji-appropriate nickname usage, modern!au?

summary: you invite sanji to be your plus 1 at a wedding

a/n: im so sorry this took so long. but. better late than? never? also, there is a tiny bit of rehashing for ep 6 of the live action for sanji and zeff's relationship so... spoilers?

It’s a chilly, overcast kind of day when the call comes in. And in retrospect, Sanji thinks he should’ve known better when he’d seen your name on the caller ID. He’d hesitated, because by god if it wasn’t his New Year's Resolution to get the hell over you this year, but it’s almost December again and he still can’t help the way his heart races at the sound of your voice.

“Hey sweetheart — long time no talk!” he answers after a brief moment of contemplating his entire life, dusting his flour-covered hands on his apron.

“Hey! Sorry for calling so… out of the blue…” your voice is still as sweet as ever, and the way his stomach twists at the tinkle of your nervous laughter makes him want to kick himself. Still, he forces himself to stay calm, clearing his throat as he checks the oven — it’s almost done pre-heating.

“Now you know what I said about actin’ a stranger — just because you moved halfway across the entire world doesn’t mean we ain’t best friends anymore, right?”

It’s what you’d said when he’d been standing at the airport, three seconds from dropping to his knees and begging you not to go. But he hadn’t, because he knew how hard you’d worked for this — for this opportunity abroad, to study art in the birthplace of the Renaissance itself, in the heart of Italy.

“And… you might be able to come visit me, right?” you’d said, rocking on the balls of your feet, your eyes full of what Sanji could only call false hope — which is always, always the worst and most painful kind.

Sanji had swallowed and nodded and said something or other about Europe and fine dining, but there’s a terrible, prickling heat eating up the back of his neck and a voice that’s screaming at him to pull you to him and kiss you. He doesn’t. And he regrets it to this day.

“Ah — right… I’m actually calling because… I’ll be in the area in about a week and…”

Your voice pulls him out of his reverie and he clears his throat, hitches a smile to his face that he knows you can’t see but he’s sure you can hear.

“Oh! That’s great, darling! You’ve gotta come for a drink, I’ll whip up all your favorites — we can make a night —”

“It’s actually for a wedding.”

There are a few moments in everyone’s lives when they learn the true meaning of a thing for the very first time — elation, pride, stomach-twisting guilt, and… fear. True fear, the kind of fear that shakes the muscle from your bones and sends them tingling, threatens to overwhelm you with numbness. Fear, that pushes adrenaline through you like a drug, forces the world into a terrifying, all-consuming focus.

Sanji feels the fear coursing through him, wild and contentious at your words.

A wedding.

Your wedding? Perhaps?

He can’t bear to think of it; he’s so terrified he can barely breathe.

Then comes the moment after, the wave of everything else that the fear had washed away — confusion, anger, guilt (always guilt, for some reason), because isn’t he supposed to be happy for you? For you, the person he loves most in this entire world, to find love, to know happiness. He should. He should.

“Oh.”

Sanji sags back against the hard, metal counter. Almost mindlessly, he reaches into his pockets with shaking hands, digging around for a smoke.

Your breath is soft in his ear, too far across the phone line and a thousand miles of ocean.

“I originally wasn’t even planning on going — she’s not a very close friend — we had like one class together but —”

And within the span of a minute, Sanji also learns relief. The kind that melts the world around you into sizzling butter and champagne bubbles. The kind that makes you want to lie down on the ground and scream.

“— it was so close to your restaurant so I said yes but I didn’t know he was gonna be there and —”

You’re still talking, rambling like you do. And it takes nearly everything inside Sanji to pull himself back to the conversation.

“Sorry, love, who did you say was gonna be there?”

“My ex — you know the one —”

Sanji grimaces, flicking on his lighter with still-shaking fingers.

“Mm, yeah I do. The tall, dark-haired bastard who —”

“Yeah well — he’s gonna be there too and I just —” he hears you swallow hard and take a long, steadying breath. An unnameable something is calcifying in the depths of his stomach as he waits for you to collect yourself.

Curiosity? Why had you called like this, so suddenly, about a wedding where your ex was going to be? Concern? Were you thinking of going back to him?

But slowly, as you stutter through your next few words, the unnameable thing obtains a name — dread.

“— I just don’t think I could do it myself, y’know? And — and you were the one who got me out of it wh-when I decided to break it off with him so…”

Sanji takes a long drag of his cigarette and casts his eyes up at the high, white-slabbed ceiling of the kitchen, scored with long strips of bright, fluorescent lighting that floods the entire room in a direct, unforgiving glow.

He closes his eyes and counts to three.

“Course I’ll come with you, darlin’. It —” he wets his lips, taps off a bit of ash from his cigarette, and sucks in through his nose, clearing his throat of the words still lodged there, “— it’d be my honor.”

Relief — he hears it in your voice, and by gods he can almost see it — the way your whole face would light up, washed as if by the setting sun, your eyes wide and dark, your cheeks flushing his favorite fucking shade of pink and —

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! I really owe you for this one —”

Sanji makes a valiant effort at a nonchalant chuckle; it comes out sounding like a dog with a bit of bone stuck in its throat instead.

“Nonsense — what are best friends for, anyway?”

There’s a tiny pause where Sanji can feel the words best friend scraping along the insides of his mouth, barbed and harsh, leaving his tongue feeling raw and metallic.

“You really are the best friend anyone could ask for,” your voice is soft and honest and Sanji wants nothing more than to chuck his phone into the industrial blender.

You tell him that you’ll send him the details, that you can’t wait to see him soon, that you’ve got a world and a half of catching up to do, that you’ll buy him so, so many drinks, and that you’ll come bearing presents. He laughs at the right times, makes soft noises of consent and agreement, and when finally, finally you tell him goodbye, he clicks off the phone and takes another long drag of his smoke.

And then, he whips his hand back and throws the cigarette butt into the large sink, where it tinks against the metal and sizzles sadly in the murky dishwater.

“Real sucker for punishment, aren’tcha, lil’ eggplant?”

Sanji groans, turning around to find Zeff with his arms folded, the hip to his bad leg propped against a counter.

“Will you fuck kindly off — can’t you see I’m going through a thing here?”

Zeff snorts, clunking unevenly towards him.

“You been going through that thing for the last year and a half since you chickened outta askin’ her to stay so —”

“I didn’t chicken out — I — it was her dream to go to Florence and study —”

“And what was your dream then, ey?”

Sanji bangs his palm against the counter and sighs, “It’s not like I could leave you here with —”

“With what? A thriving restaurant business that I started? A guest list out the door and round the corner —”

“I — I helped!”

Zeff rolls his eyes, “Ah sure ya did, but I never asked you to, did I?”

Sanji huffs, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth to stop the torrent of horrible, sad, acrid things he could say and could never mean, so he swallows them back down. When he looks up next, Zeff is still standing there, but there’s a softness around his eyes.

He opens his mouth a few times, but eventually, all he says is, “The oven’s over heatin’.”

Sanji swears and jumps up to tug open the oven door. A wave of hot air whooshes out and nearly catches him in the face. Behind him, he can hear Zeff’s dark, gravelly chuckle, and the dull clunk of his wooden leg.

“You burn the kitchen down, you pay for it.”

And then he’s gone again, leaving the door swinging behind him, and Sanji very much alone with the too-hot oven and a counter full of things he can’t really remember the recipes for anymore.

Nearly a week later, Sanji finds himself standing at the airport, rocking on the balls of his feet, nearly in the exact same place as he’d been a year and a half prior. Except this time, you’re not walking away from him. You’re walking back towards him. He wonders if there’s a name for deja-vu in reverse and comes to the realization that that’s just called… a memory.

And memory seems to work in strange ways now, images superimposing themselves on top of one another — the flicker of a film lens, the bat of an eyelash, the shadow of a smile crimping the corner of your lips. All of this, he sees in the here and now, but he sees it in the air around you too, shimmering and mirage-like — all his memories and dreams of you layered over the shape of you. Your memory like a ghost of itself, trailing behind you as you walk towards him, a shy smile on your face, your cheeks flushed from travel and the cold and —

He doesn’t let himself hope. Not this time.

“Hey!” your voice is just as bell-like as he remembers it, pitched a little higher than it usually is, probably out of nervousness. But it still feels like a kick to the guts. Sanji forces himself to smile.

“Hi, love,” he says, leaning down as you reach him, but the motion aborts halfway because — is it still appropriate to hug you like he’d always done? To press his lips to your cheek or your hairline and revel in the bright citrus of your shampoo, to soak in the butter and cream of your skin like he used to?

There’s an awkward half-second pause before you’re standing up on tip-toe and Sanji’s heart nearly drops out of his ass as you lean in. But then — your lips skim by his cheek and your arms are around him, and stupid, stupid, stupid heart — thundering in his chest like horses or hooves or fists or thumping rabbit’s feet — leaping into his throat and pattering against the base of his tongue as he wraps his arms around you and holds you close. But it’s not close enough. It’s never close enough.

He breathes and distantly, a part of him notes that you still use the same shampoo.

“Hi…” your voice is warm by his ear, a bit muffled, but he can’t help the way it makes him shiver, “It’s… so good to see you.”

He nods, not trusting his own voice to do the normal thing and, oh, you know — work.

“I’ve — I’ve missed you.”

He makes a noise somewhere between a laugh and a cough as he nods again. He feels your arms slackening around him and a fierce, terrifying thing is flapping its wings in his stomach, screeching at him not to let you go. But he does — like he did before.

“I — I missed you too,” he says, though his voice sounds flat and scratchy and he clears his throat again.

A dozen different expressions flicker across the lovely planes of your face and finally, it settles on endeared exasperation.

“Please don’t tell me you still work through like three packs of smokes a day.”

Sanji laughs then, shaking his head as he reaches over for your luggage, “Nah — well, maybe not three but —”

You whack him softly on the arm.

“I actually tried to quit right after you left.”

“You did?”

Sanji shrugs as the pair of you start to make for the exit. He feels your gaze go slanted and shrewd.

“How long’d that last?”

He smirks, “Few hours.”

You whack him again and this time, he dodges out of the way just to bask in the bright spark of your laughter as you chase after him.

“Seriously though, you know how terrible they are for you!”

“Sure do,” he says, tugging one out of his pocket as soon as he clears the airport doors, pivoting left towards the parking garage. You have to jog to keep up with his longer strides, your breaths misting the air between you in silvery puffs.

He makes no move to light it as he helps toss your luggage into the trunk of his car, sliding into the driver’s seat. You huff as you wiggle into the passenger’s side.

“Then why —”

Sanji waits patiently for you to buckle your seatbelt before pulling out of the parking space, one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting soft against the middle console. He slates you a glance.

“Cause,” he says, fixing his eyes back on the road, an easy smirk twisting his lips, “it’s a metaphor.”

You groan, sinking into the seat, “Just because you read John Green one time —”

“Oi, I’ll have you know I read his entire bibliography after you showed him to me.”

“Ugh, whatever you manic-pixie-dreamgirl-loving ass.”

“Yeah, whatever — you actual manic pixie dreamgirl.”

You smile and Sanji allows himself the brief and aching delusion that the past year and a half didn’t happen, that you never left, and that you’d never leave. That you’d always be here, warm and laughing and just within reach.

The rest of the car ride is spent in mundane conversation, in how was your flight and tell me about Florence and how’s Zeff doing these days and I wanna know about your latest dish. It’s light and easy, and Sanji lets it warm the air around him. By the time he pulls into the front of your hotel, all the unsaid words from the past year and a half have soaked through his socks and into his shoes. It sloshes out onto the pale pavement as he opens the car door.

He helps you roll your luggage up into the lobby and tells you he’ll be here at 3PM to pick you up tomorrow. The venue’s just three blocks away.

“Yeah, I’ll see you then,” you say, pursing your lips, waving as he backpedals towards the automatic doors.

“You’ve still gotta send me pictures of the dress you’re wearing — I gotta find a matching tie.”

You laugh, a bit embarrassed, “Right — and here I thought I might surprise you.”

Sanji freezes, eyes wide.

“O-oh! Er — well, you can just — just tell me what color or —” he waves vaguely, “send a picture of a corner of the dress — just so I have something to color match against —”

You nod, eyes glittering, eager once more, “Oh! That’s a good idea — I’ll do that.”

“Great,” Sanji says.

“Great!” you echo, perhaps a bit too chipper.

He gives you one last smile before turning and striding from the hotel, firing up the engine as calmly as he can, forcing himself not to turn and check if you’re still watching him through the brightly lit, sliding glass doors. He allows himself a glance through the rear-view mirror as he pulls away from the drive and his heart skips a beat when he realizes you’re still standing there, right in the middle of the lobby, fingers wrapped around the handle of your suitcase, your eyes fixed on the shadow of his retreating car.

He lights the smoke the second he turns the corner, your shadow no longer in his rear-view mirror.

That night, Sanji dreams in fits and leaps, flashing images and long, sticky streams of could-have-beens —

He dreams of your laughter in a white-tiled kitchen, of powdered sugar and eggshells cracked and leaking on an exposed wood counter, chopsticks clinking against a thick glass mixing bowl. He dreams of your voice echoing off the shower tiles as you sing off-key, the way you used to when you’d sneak into his college dorm for movie night and a midnight snack. He dreams of coffee mugs and errant rose petals and dandelion seeds blowing in the wind. He dreams of dancing with you in his arms in a darkened dorm room that morphs into a bigger room with a softer carpet, one that he’d never seen before but he knows implicitly (like bodies know) is his home — it has pictures on the walls, trinkets lining the far bookshelf, your favorite scarf draped over the back of the well-worn sofa.

In the dream, you pull your head back from where it's pillowed against his shoulder and smile up at him. He leans down to kiss you, his lips hovering half an inch from yours.

Sanji jerks awake to the sound of his alarm, fingers fumbling for his phone, groaning as he smashes the orange snooze button and flips over to bury his face back into his lumpy pillow.

“Ah… fuck.”

It’s not the first time he’s had that dream, and he knows it won’t be the last. But it’d been so real that night, real enough to make him wonder if it just might come true.

He rubs at his sleep-crusted eyes and peers blearily at all the notifications on his screen. There’s a text from you with a picture attached. He clicks it open to find a short message attached to the picture — I really did want to surprise you…

He blinks for three seconds at what looks like a blurry picture of studded black silk before he remembers —

“Send me a picture of a corner of the dress — just so I have something to color match against.”

He allows himself a laugh, swinging his feet out of bed even as he types back — you coulda just told me it was black…

He watches the three little dots appear and disappear a few times, chewing on his bottom lip, before the text appears — well there are different shades of black, right???

Sanji laughs, shaking his head.

sure there are.

A string of tongue-out emojis, followed by an equally long string of middle-finger emojis.

He spends the rest of the morning fussing over which specific black tie to wear before settling on one that he’s quite sure is the exact same shade of black as your dress (and yes, he does have quite the collection of black ties), before tugging his best suit out to press.

It shouldn’t feel so easy, slipping back into the rhythm of things, of texting and smiling and hearing your voice in his head when he reads your texts. It shouldn’t feel so easy to forget the months of radio silence and guilt, the oppressive, resonant weight of what might have been if either of you had done a single thing different that day at the airport — he wonders if he should’ve reached for your hand, he wonders if you’d ever looked back.

He hadn’t. He couldn’t let himself.

He is waiting for you in the lobby at 2:45, wearing a hole into the plush Persian carpet, collecting strained looks from the concierge who had assured him three times in the last four minutes that he’d already rung up to your room and that you’d said you were on your way.

“Wow, you’re early — sorry I took a while — I couldn’t figure out what to do with my hair and —“

Sanji lifts his head and thinks distantly that all those rom-com cliches of a guy looking up, time itself slackening, the room smearing sideways around him, the music going slow, the lighting soft — all of it is painfully, startlingly true after all.

Because there you are, walking towards him, still saying something, but he can’t make out the words anymore because time isn’t really a thing anymore, is it? He can’t focus on that and also the dark glimmer of your dress, the way the neckline skates just beneath your collarbones, barely skimming the skin there before it slips down along the slope of your shoulders in a way that makes his breath unspool inside his chest like loose threads.

And in the slanted, ethereal light of the winter afternoon, your dress looks like it’s cut from a swath of darkest midnight, moonless and scattered with stars.

You blush as Sanji attempts to pick his jaw up off the floor and hitch his lips into something resembling a smile.

“W-wow… you look…”

Your smile is shy as you press your palms against the dress, looking down, “Thanks… you don’t think it’s… too much?”

Sanji shakes his head, feeling dazed.

“No! I mean — it’s —“ his mouth is dry, drier than he ever remembers it being, and suddenly it’s very hard to swallow and Sanji isn’t even sure the muscles in his neck know how to perform the action, let alone force words out alongside it. He struggles for another few seconds, his jaw working furiously as his eyes skitter down and back up the shape of you.

“You look… perfect,” he says, finally, because the word has been ricocheting around his chest like a stray bullet and he had to let it out somehow.

“Thanks — you don’t look so bad yourself,” you say, your voice breathy in a way that makes Sanji’s stomach squeeze.

He offers you his arm, and you glide forward to take it.

He drives the three blocks to the wedding venue in a daze, his mind spinning slow and off-axis, tilted so by the gentle waft of your perfume, the lullaby of your voice as you chatter nervously about this and that and the weather, I mean, can you believe it’s gonna be an outdoor wedding in the winter? He wonders briefly why you’re so nervous, and then he’s reminded of the reason he’s even here at all — your ex will be here. Ah. Right.

“Ready?” he asks, offering you his arm again as the both of you follow the meandering stream of arriving guests toward the paved outdoor garden area where the ceremony is due to take place.

“No, but… you’re here so…” you let out a breath and for a second, Sanji almost thinks he hears the hint of an ache in your voice. An ache like an old scab picked at too many times, like unrequited love, perhaps. It’s an ache with which Sanji is so intimately familiar that he immediately tamps it down and vows not to think about it again for the rest of the night.

There are stiff-backed waiters wandering around with plates of hors d’oeuvres and thin flutes of bubbling pink champagne.

Sanji grabs two glasses and hands you one.

“Cheers, then.”

“Bottoms up,” you say, tossing back the entire flute in one.

Sanji cocks his eyebrows, grinning as he follows suit, smacking his lips.

“Alright then, I guess if that’s how you’re playin’ —”

Your laughter is light, if a little strained, but he remembers how quickly bubbly drinks tend to go to your head and makes a concerted effort to slow down. You make it all the way through the actual ceremony without bumping into your ex, though you do lean over and grab Sanji’s hand as the bride and groom exchange vows — something about love being a choice, one that they promise to make every morning of every day for the rest of their lives — and he looks over to find you misty-eyed, bottom lip caught beneath your teeth.

“Sap,” he whispers, leaning over. It earns him a choked laugh and a half-hearted elbow in the ribs, but it’s worth it to see the tension melt from your shoulders.

Sanji turns back towards the bride and groom, exchanging rings now, and unbidden comes the images of you and him standing where they are — you in a dazzling white gown, him still in a dark suit, but one perhaps of more expensive material and much better tailoring. He thinks about all the things he might promise you, wonders at what you might promise him in return —

“I promise to love and cherish you —” you might say.

“I promise to make all your favorite foods,” he might say.

“I promise not to touch your emotional support le creuset pans.”

“I promise not to make you taste all my experimental dishes —”

“Okay, but what if I want to —”

He imagines the way the crowd would titter, how the officiator would affectionately clear his throat. He imagines Zeff’s warm, well-worn laughter, rough and a little torn at the edges because he’s just as sentimental as the next guy behind all the beard and gruffness. He imagines the crowd smiling up at the pair of you, the way you’d squeeze his hands to get the both of you back on track —

He jerks out of his reverie as you tug your hand away from his to clap, and it takes him a beat to realize that everyone else is clapping and cheering too. He blinks — the bride and groom are kissing, pulling apart as the music swells around them and they link hands to walk back down the aisle.

Sanji clears his throat and hurriedly gets up to clap as well, his eyes trailing the radiant smiles on both the newlyweds’ faces. Another sharp ache sings through him but he feels your hand in his again and he can’t tell if he wants to grip you tighter or pull away. They’d both hurt just as much, wouldn’t they?

“C’mon, let’s get inside — I wanna judge the catering with you,” you whisper, your breath tickling his cheek, and he knows without having to look that you’re standing on your tiptoes, your chin almost propped on his shoulder.

He fights down a bout of shivers and smiles, “My favorite part of any formal event, honestly.”

You laugh, “I know — me too.”

So you spend the entire dinner service whispering to each other about the food —

“God, this steak is so well done I think it just might dislocate my jaw —”

“What’s in this sauce?”

Sanji chews thoughtfully before making a face, “Dunno, but it’s got oregano.”

“Oh the cake looks good though.”

“Yeah, but we both know how much sugar and butter goes into that right?”

You nudge him with an elbow, “Weird, cause I’m pretty sure happiness is also made of sugar and butter.”

“Well for me, it’s always been…” but Sanji trails off, biting his tongue. No. He can’t say that — not now. Not here.

Because for him, happiness has always just been you.

So instead, he swallows passed his own mouthful of regrets and attempts a lopsided grin. And thankfully, your attention is drawn elsewhere by a loud peal of laughter before he has to make a shitty joke about happiness being a well-lit kitchen and a gas-lit stove.

You’re both at least a bottle of champagne deep when it finally happens, inevitable as a summer storm — your ex saunters up to you on the dance floor, sporting a grease-slick grin, eyeing you up and down like a piece of well-cut meat. Sanji is at the bar, grabbing more drinks and you’re catching a breath of fresh air just outside the dance hall.

“Well, well, well — look who it is.”

Sanji turns sharply at the sound of the voice, his eyes narrowing — Asshat. Fantastic. The bartender is putting the finishing touches on two custom cocktails but blinks, confused, as Sanji swipes both drinks out from the bar and casts him a hurried grin.

“Thanks mate, these look great,” Sanji raises the cocktail glasses at the bewildered bartender before hurrying off, slowing ever so slightly as he reaches you, straightening his spine and smoothing out his shoulders.

“Here, got them special-made for you,” he says, pressing the cocktail into your hand, cutting into something that Asshat is saying.

“Oh! Thanks — oh wow, this looks so good!” you beam up at him, taking a sip.

“Oh wow, didn’t know you were still hangin’ out with this guy,” Asshat says, hooking his thumbs into his belt-hoops and jutting out his chin.

You frown, pressing your lips, “Excuse me?”

Asshat scoffs, posturing, “I mean, when we broke up, it was cause o’him right? So I just thought you might’ve realized what a mistake that was and —”

Sanji barely has the time to feel offended before Asshat is gasping and stumbling back. You’d tossed the remainder of your drink straight into his face.

“What the —” Asshat sputters, his fists clenching, but quick as anything, Sanji swipes out a leg that catches him right in the shins and makes him stumble. In one fluid movement, Sanji pushes his own drink into your hand before reaching out the other arm to steady the now flailing Asshat, catching him around the shoulders.

“Whoa there! Seems like you’ve had a bit too much to drink, my friend!” he says, loud enough for the people around you to hear. He thumps Asshat on the back in a would-be kind gesture before tugging him close, still coughing, and hissing in his ear —

“Listen here, you asswipe — you’re gonna turn around and walk away and stay the fuck away from us for the rest of this wedding, you understand? I’ve got plenty more o’this for ya if you don’t, got it?”

Sanji scuffs his foot along the gravel-covered ground in a motion that could easily be mistaken as fidgeting, but you know better. And so, it seems, does Asshat, who scoffs and shoves Sanji off him with a glare, but after another second, straightens his drink-soaked jacket, turns, and stalks away.

You let out a long breath, swallowing hard.

“Hey darlin’… you alright?” Sanji turns and bends down to level his eyes with yours.

“Y-yeah — thanks — you didn’t need to —”

“Nah. Course I did — it’s why you invited me, right?” he allows himself a lopsided grin that borders on self-deprecating and you look up, eyes wide.

“No! I — that’s not —”

“It’s okay, love — I promise I’m not offended —” Sanji’s babbling, he knows he is — but he has to, because the alternative of letting you speak, of letting you confirm what he already knows to be true (that you’ve only ever seen him as a best friend, that you love him in all the ways except for the one way he wants you to, in the one way he loves you) is too much. He tucks his hands in his pockets and shrugs up his shoulders, pulling them up towards his ears like armor.

And then you lean in and kiss him, and every single word he’s ever thought of saying just to fill the silence turns to mist and mornings on his tongue. His mind turns blissfully blank and when he regains consciousness (or has he? Because isn’t this the dream he’s dreamt every waking moment of his life for the past… however many years?), he thanks every god he can name that he feels his fingers in your hair, his other hand cupping the soft curve of your jaw. He tastes your uncertainty against his lips and presses in, hoping, praying that if he just kissed you hard enough you might understand.

When you pull away, he can’t help the satisfied purr that curls up his chest at the pinkness in your cheeks and the slightly glazed-over look in your eyes.

“O-oh — sorry I —”

Sanji shakes his head, leaning in to push his forehead against yours.

“Nah, nah, nah — if you tell me that was a mistake now I might just turn around and never speak to you ever again — because don’t you dare —”

You let out a helpless laugh, shaking your head as you reach up to cover his hands with yours. It’s only then that he realizes they’d been shaking. He swallows and he thinks he can taste every single morning after for the rest of his goddamn life in the whisper of your breath.

“It — it’s not, I wasn’t —” you close your eyes and Sanji holds you still, foreheads still pressed. Distantly, Sanji is aware that people are cheering, that more drinks are being poured, that the dance floor is probably a mess. But he doesn’t care. He doesn’t think he’ll care about anything else ever again — why would he? Now that he’s got you.

“Shh… take your time, love… we’ve got all the time in the world.”

He feels the relief take you, and then you’re falling into him, burying your face in the lapel of his suit jacket, probably smearing it with your foundation. Vaguely, Sanji considers framing it when he gets home.

“I’m… I’m sorry it took so long — I’m sorry I didn’t — that I wasn’t…” you curl your fist into the material of his shirt and thump him lightly on the chest, even as he laughs and wraps his arms around you.

“I know, darlin’… I know.” Sanji presses his lips into your hair and can’t help a smile.

Finally. Finally.

Your hair smells like citrus shampoo.

Finally.

“I thought about you every single day,” you admit, your voice small when you finally pull back to look at him again. He thinks there might be tears in your eyes, or maybe it’s just the starlight caught in the thick night sky of your lashes.

“Did you now?” he asks, fumbling for some semblance of normalcy amidst this night of revelations.

You nod, fervently, and god he wants to kiss you again. Briefly, he wonders if he should, if he’s allowed to now. Instead, he smiles and cocks his head.

“So? What changed?” and he can’t help the tiny note of hurt out of his voice, the slightest shiver of disbelief. After all, cynicism is a hard habit to break.

Especially after so many years of practice.

You shrug, sighing, “Nothing — everything. I mean — I’d always… but then I thought — you had your career as a chef and I didn’t even know what I wanted to do with my life. But it —” you lick your lips, and Sanji nearly breaks when you tear your eyes away from his. He wants to force you back, to soak in the dark and bright of your gaze till he can see the world exactly as you see it.

“It’s always been you…” you say.

At this, Sanji does break. He tips your face towards him with a thumb and a forefinger and leans in, waiting for you to pull back, bracing for it. But you don’t — instead, you press in and close the space between you again, and again, and then again.

He wants to tell you — he needs to tell you that it’s always been you too, that there’s never been anyone else. From the moment he first laid eyes on you, he’s known, even though both of you were children back then, and neither of you had any idea what “love” actually meant. He knew then, too.

“Love…” his voice trails off, but you smile, and he knows you know, knows that you can hear it in the rawness behind his voice, in the softness of his breath, in the way it shakes.

You make to kiss him again. But your lips hover half an inch from his and you stop. Sanji sighs.

“What — why’d you stop?”

Your smile is sweet and sharp, honey glinting on a razor’s edge, and he knows that he has you. And maybe that he’s always had you and was just too blind, too terrified, to see it.

“Haven’t you heard? It’s a metaphor.”

Sanji groans, “Fuck your metaphors.”

You bat your lashes, pulling an expression of mock affront onto your face.

“Well at least wine me and dine me first —”

Sanji licks his lips, “What’dyou think I’ve been trying to do for the last ten years?”

Your breath catches.

“Oh.”

Sanji smirks and kisses you again, slowly this time, languid and deep. Unhurried. He luxuriates in the way you go soft in his arms, in the way he can feel the gentle hitch of your breath as he runs his tongue along the edges of your teeth, coaxing you towards him, closer and closer and closer.

The hardest, angriest part of him wants to swallow you whole, bite down just to hear you hiss, to taste your blood on his tongue. To make you feel even a sliver of the pain he’d felt. He tamps it back down — there’s time for that later.

Instead, he forces himself to pull back and allows himself the satisfaction of watching you chase him, pursing your own lips with a bashful look away, your cheeks dark.

“So,” Sanji takes half a step back, puffing out his chest in the best imitation of a fuckboy at a wedding party, “wanna get outta here?”

You let out a helpless laugh, falling into his side. He lets the sound ring through him like so many silver bells.

“Yeah, I’d love that.”

He chuckles, looping an arm around your middle and leaning towards your ear.

“Your place, or mine?”

You roll your eyes, “I’m pretty sure I still have a toothbrush at your place.”

Sanji hums, “You still have a whole drawer at my place.”

You smile up at him, open and happy and sincere, “Then… I guess that’s your answer then.”

[awooghan]

fall in love with me (this christmas) ✧.* h.hj

➳ PAIRING: hyunjin x fem!reader

➳ GENRE: fluff, mild angst, best friends to lovers, christmas

➳ WARNINGS: mild language, mentions of food, hyunjin is tipsy in one part (he and reader are ‘00 or ‘01 tho so they’re legal), UNEDITED (will be fully edited by new years) UPDATE: fully edited as of jan. 19, 2024

➳ WORD COUNT: 22.9k (final wc after editing)

➳ SUMMARY: hyunjin has one last chance to have a college christmas romance and he’ll do anything to have it—even if it means fake-dating his best friend. (inspired by "cold december night" by michael buble)

➳ NOTES: MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!! 🎄❄️ i hope you have/had an amazing day with love ones and good food! this fic is my christmas collab with my bestie @ujimoo :3 some parts r kind of rough bc we didn't fully edit yet but i hope y'all enjoy <3

network tags: @kflixnet @straykidsland-main @kwritersworld

prologue.

– halloween.

You didn’t think the night could get any worse.

The night started from the moment you caught a whiff of beer, sweat, and Dior Sauvage as Hyunjin dragged you by the hand to ‘Jackson’s 2023 Annual Hallo-Wang Party’. You could think of a thousand other ways you wanted to spend your Halloween that didn’t involve being stuck here, but you lost a bet with Chan, so you don’t exactly have a choice.

So here you are, sitting in the kitchen with your now-ruined costume sticking to your skin, thanks to someone (Jeongin) spilling his tequila on you when you were playing beer pong. Now, not only is your head throbbing from the smell of frat party, but you have an ugly pink blotch on the costume you took weeks to put together.

You nurse whatever the concoction of alcohol is the punch when Hyunjin, too tipsy for his own good, slides up next to you and rests his chin on your shoulder. 

“Y/NNN~…” he sighs, wrapping his arms around your waist. “There you are!” 

Fighting against his hold on you, you’re finally able to get his hands away from your waist, only for him to wrap his arms around your arm like a lost child. 

“Why don’t you love me?” he mumbles, hiccuping at the end of his sentence. “Do you hate me?” 

A smile tugs at your lips as you turn to look at your best friend. His blond hair falls in front of his eyes as he stares at you. “Of course.” 

His nose scrunches in disgust and he shakes his head as your laughter surrounds him. It somehow makes him feel lighter than all of the alcohol he’s drunk combined. 

“You’re so mean, why would you say that?” he whines. He grabs your arm tighter and shoves his head on your shoulder. 

Exhaling, you pat his head lightly before resting your head on his. It’s like the world goes silent for a moment as you run your fingers through his hair.

You’re both like that for an uncertain amount of time before Hyunjin jumps back up, his arms still around your arm. A large tipsy smile creeps on his face and he suddenly begins to giggle. The way his eyes light up almost makes you do the same.

“I think Jisoo is going to ask me out~” He sighs dreamily.  “I feel the vibes, you can feel it too, right?” 

You catch the way two of your friends, Changbin and Jisung, are watching you from the kitchen door. Sticking your tongue out at them, they return it with winks, eyeing up both you and Hyunjin. 

You turn back to the giggly blond clinging to your arm and shrug. “I’m not sure. I don’t really see her around campus.”

You’re not trying to sound like you’re completely disinterested in what Hyunjin’s saying, but when you already know where it’s heading, you can’t help it. You’re not really sure Hyunjin is even listening though when he sighs to himself and tugs on your arm again. 

“This is—” tug. “My chance—” tug. “For my Christmas romance, Y/Nie.” A harder tug.  “I can feel it in the air!” Aggressive shaking.

Breaking your arm away from him, you huff. Can’t you have one night before Hyunjin’s constant babbling about Christmas and Christmas romances?

“Can we wait till after Halloween to talk about Christmas, please?” you groan, causing Hyunjin to sneer at you. 

“Why do you have to be such a Grinch?” he attempts to whisper—but his intoxicated brain has other ideas. 

You attempt to ignore the feeling of his arms sneakily slipping around your waist again and the way his head seems to fit into the dip of your shoulder as you sigh.

“Ask me about it again tomorrow.” 

…

You really didn’t think the night could get any worse. But after corralling Hyunjin, who could barely stand on his own, back to his dorm, you were proven wrong. So, so wrong.

When you finally untangle yourself from his hold and hand him off to his poor roommate, Felix, it’s 11:58pm. Normally, you wouldn’t care to watch the clock for something so mundane, but you had a feeling he was going to text you the minute you look away.

And sure enough, the second you leave Hyunjin’s dorm building, you feel your phone vibrate in your hoodie pocket.

Hyunnie : it’s november 1st Hyunnie : it’s christmas time bitch!! Hyunnie : ah Hyunnie : sorry for calling you a bitch… Hyunnie : i got excited TT

You can only roll your eyes fondly. At least it’s November now.

one.

– november 1st.

Hyunjin feels sticky. 

Every year he rejoices at the start of the Christmas season, but every year he also forgets that the start is the one part he hates. The morning is so nice and icy-cold, everything sweater weather should be. But by midday… the sweater has to come off. Then he’s sweating in places he shouldn’t be, he’s itching all over, and he’s all grumpy and gross and he just wants to shower twenty times to try and rid himself of the feeling of his clothes clinging to his skin. 

He can see his breath just past his nose as he tries to rid his shoes of the mush that is the remains of fallen leaves. He knows he shouldn’t have worn his pristine white sneakers that you had gotten him for his birthday earlier that year (ones that he, not to mention, cleans frantically after every use). But they go so well with his dark grey jeans that he had to! The things he does for his passion for fashion…

When Jisoo first messaged him asking to meet up by the trees, it felt like a dream come true, one he’s been waiting for for so long. But now that he’s here, he’s not sure how long he’s been waiting, but he feels like he’s a Sim with stink lines coming off of him and he wants to scream. His controller must hate him because nothing is going as he planned. 

So when he finally sees Jisoo in the distance, he lets out a sigh of relief. He sees her try and keep her bag on her shoulder as she rushes over. When she’s finally in front of him, with strands of hair stuck to her face, her mouth slightly open as she tries to catch her breath… all Hyunjin does is blink. 

If you had asked him a week ago, he would have found this adorable. He would have screamed in her face and pinched her cheeks, before running to his dorm and spamming your texts about how Jisoo is the cutest girl he’s ever seen and how his heart has never beaten as fast as it does around her. 

But now he’s standing there, with the love of his life right in front of him, and he feels… wrong. There’s murky puddles and soggy leaves surrounding his and Jisoo’s feet, an angry draft blows past his ears as he tries to read Jisoo’s lips, and a stifling blanket that’s the same dirty shade of grey as his dryer lint trap smothers him from overhead. Nothing feels right, he feels icky, and his heart is fluttering for all the wrong reasons. All he wants to do is run off into the sunset, and not with her.

He barely even hears her as the whole world moves in fast forward while he stands there completely still. And he doesn’t even remember what he says before he walks away, his shoulder brushing against Jisoo’s in the process. He doesn’t even turn back when he hears her call out to him multiple times. 

He’s sure that when he tells you his over-dramatised version of what he assumes was Jisoo’s confession, you’ll do your exaggerated laugh that makes you snort and then complain that you snorted. You’ll look at him in a way that screams ‘I told you so,’ and he hates it so much that he considers not telling you at all.

But even he knows he’s a blabbermouth and as soon as he lays his eyes on you, the words will fall out of his mouth before he even has a chance to think. 

So he goes to the nearest pizza place by your dorm, and he orders your usual: half cheese, half pepperoni. You’re too indecisive to pick just one, so you get both. He orders his own pizza too and he sits and waits, stripping himself of his scarf and his hat before shoving it into his backpack and playing around with his hair, trying to get it to look right before his order is called. 

When he’s finally outside your door, he doesn’t bother to knock—he walks straight in and calls out for you. You rush out of your room, an oversized hoodie covering your frame with your hood up. 

“Damn it, Hyun, can’t you call before you show up uninvited?” you huff, instantly eyeing up the pizzas. “What would you have done if I wasn’t here?” 

Hyunjin shrugs. He knows there’s no way you’d be anywhere else. Your friends are his friends and they’re all in class or with their own significant others… not that that matters…

He hands you your own pizza and smiles at the way you smile when you fall onto the couch and stuff the first slice into your mouth. A muffled ‘thank you’ somehow escapes your lips. Gulping it down, you wipe your mouth with your sleeve, causing Hyunjin to curl his lip in disgust.

“Why are you here, anyway?” you ask before tearing off another bite of pizza.

“No reason.” He’s trying his best to do a Mary-Kate and Ashley and keep his lips sealed, but it’s no use. 

You just blink at him until the dam finally bursts. 

“Jisoo confessed to me and I turned her down.”

Still blinking, you furrow your eyebrows as you look at him in confusion. “But… isn’t that what you wanted?” 

Hyunjin keeps his eyes locked on the pizza slice he’s playing with aimlessly instead of actually eating. He can’t even explain how he’s feeling. He wanted, no, dreamed of the perfect confession, and he blew his chance. Because of… bad vibes? How do you even explain that?

“I… I don’t know,” he mumbles. He sighs, dropping the pizza box on his lap as he throws his head back against the couch to look up at the ceiling. “It just…” He pauses. “It wasn’t what I thought it would be.” 

“Is a confession ever going to be perfect, though?”

Hyunjin sits up instantly at the question. The way he moves so suddenly makes you jump, but he doesn’t mean to scare you. He’s just very… passionate…  about the subject. ‘Passionate’ may not be enough to describe it.

“Of course it can be!” He has to stop himself from blabbing too much. He’s sure you’re tired of hearing his speeches about this, so he just gives you the short version. “It’s the biggest moment of any relationship! With the right person, it’s always going to be perfect. Like, you know in your heart when it’s right, and…” he sighs, “I didn’t feel that.” 

He looks at you, and you nod. “Then… maybe you didn’t like her as much as you thought you did?” 

Hyunjin falls against the couch again. His voice comes out as a whine this time, “But that was my last chance at a Christmas romance!” 

Is he being dramatic? Maybe a little, Hyunjin figures. He’s just lucky it’s you he’s ranting to, because the most you do in response to this is huff and give him a look. If it was one of mutual friends, they would have slapped some sense into him by now. Metaphorically, at least… hopefully.

“This isn’t your last chance at a Christmas romance, you know that right?” you say. “You’re acting like this is your last Christmas, period.” 

He sinks somehow further into the couch. “Okay, fine.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “My last college Christmas romance.” 

“You didn’t have one last year? Why does it matter now?” you ask, reaching once more for your pizza. 

“Because it’s our final year!! That’s kind of the point of it being the final chance, Y/N.” 

Hyunjin knows you mean well, but you rolling your eyes at him as you shove another bite into your mouth isn’t helping his plight. He can’t help but frown at you, though, not only because of your reaction, but now because you’re talking with your mouth full.

“Here’s an idea,” you gulp down some of the pizza stuffed in your cheeks, “just fake it till you make it. Get someone to fake date you.” 

It takes a second for Hyunjin to process what you say. But when he does, he gasps loudly and sits up even faster than last time. He turns and grabs hold of your shoulders so fast that it takes all of your force not to fall backwards.

“You’re a genius!”

You smirk, shrugging your shoulders. “I know. No need to remind me.” 

The look of disgust returns and Hyunjin slowly moves his hands away from your shoulders like you just infected him with something. “Don’t make me regret saying that.” 

“We both know it’s true, though.” 

“I hate you.” 

“I hate me too.” 

He ignores your self-degrading comment and sighs. His arms find their way to cross themselves over his chest once more and he thinks to himself for a minute. He has a world of possibilities at his fingertips, but he knows exactly what he wants to do. Just… he doesn’t know how to say it. Might as well just rip the bandaid.

“So when’s our first fake date?”

You cough out whatever pizza you had left in your mouth and it takes you a moment to catch your breath again. When you finally have a moment to breathe, you look at Hyunjin. “Our what?!” 

Hyunjin simply blinks at you. He just asked the most obvious question in the world, and you’re looking at him like you just asked him to solve a derivative. He doesn’t even remember what that is.

You motion for him to continue, but he’s still blinking. “What?” he says.

“When I suggested fake dating someone, I didn’t mean me!”

“Of course it has to be you!” he frantically tries to explain.  “I-I can’t just ask a random person to fake date me when I have no idea who they are!” 

“So you just assume I’d say ‘yes’?!” 

“Oh, come on, please!” he begs, actually getting down on the floor in front of you. He links his hands together as he whips out his best puppy dog eyes. 

He waits and goes still and keeps giving you that cartoonish pleading stare. Then, you sigh.

“I feel like I get nothing out of this. You get your fake Christmas romance and what do I get? A fake boyfriend I didn’t ask for?” 

He goes still again. He thinks hard about anything that will get you to agree. He’ll pull out the big guns, if he has to. And that’s what he does, and based on the terrified look on your face, he’s sure he has a crazed gleam in his eyes when he says it.

“I’ll never complain about not having or finding a Christmas romance again!” 

Hyunjin can’t believe he said that. You stare at him, he’s staring at you. He’s sure you don’t believe him.

“Come on!” he huffs. “Don’t look at me like that!”

“You can’t keep anything to yourself, you really believe you’d be able to keep that?” 

Hyunjin nods frantically.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he hears you mutter before looking him in the eyes. “Fine. I’ll do it.” 

Hyunjin’s up in another flash, pushing you with all his weight against the couch as he hugs you even tighter. 

“THANK YOU!! You’re the best!!” 

And in the next moment, he’s standing, his hand out for you to take. “Let's go!” A confident beam is plastered on his face. He can’t say the same for you.

“Huh?”

You just keep staring at his outstretched hand. Knowing you’re not going to move, Hyunjin just huffs and grabs your hand, pulling you to the front door.

“On our first date, decorating your dorm!!” 

“HUH?!”

—

As you walk through the store, Hyunjin has his fingers entwined with yours so tightly that you almost think he’s cutting off blood flow. It’s almost as if he was afraid you’d change your mind and disappear if he let go. 

He beelines towards the Christmas decorations. You don’t know why he insisted on buying more when you still have the stuff that he made you get last year—you just forgot where you put it. But you live in a tiny college dorm, so it’s not like you had many places to look.

It’s whatever, you guess. You don't bother to question what’s going through his mind right now. It won’t end well if you do.

Hyunjin’s other hand is pushing an extra large cart you're sure you don’t need, but he got it anyway. He can’t possibly be thinking of filling up the whole cart, can he? You live in a college dormitory. Only so much can fit.

After what seems like a lifetime, you’re both in front of the Christmas decorations. With his hand still stuck to yours like glue, he starts to examine each set of decorations with his other hand, holding it up close to his eyes as if he doesn’t have perfect vision. 

“What are you doing?” you ask. 

“Checking,” he mutters, placing a box of lights back down on the shelf before picking up another one.

“Checking for…?” 

He huffs, drops his shoulders, and stares at you with nothing behind his eyes. “The perfect lights. They shouldn’t be broken and we need to know they’ll shine bright enough.” 

“They’re lights, Hyun,” you respond simply. “It doesn’t matter if they’re perfect or not.” 

Pushing your lips into a line, you stare at each other in silence for a moment or two—honestly, you’re not too sure how long the moment actually is. Hyunjin just looks away, placing the box of lights back onto the shelf. 

“You’re relying too much on everything being perfect.” 

You feel the way his grip tightens around your hand. He stays silent, picking up another box of lights before placing them in the shopping cart. “These are perfect,” he says, ignoring your words. “We should get these.” 

He pushes the cart further down whilst dragging you along in the process. Picks up another set of lights, checks them, and puts them down, before repeating this a few times before he’s happy with the one he’s decided on. He does this for many of the tinsel, for some random ornaments, and for random chocolates and candy canes to hang on the tree. 

You’re fiddling on your phone when he tugs on your hand, causing you to look up at him. In his free hand are two mini stuffed animal ornaments. He’s gazing at them with a look in his eyes you can’t quite place.

“It’s us.” His eyes find yours. There’s a softness to his voice that compliments the warm smile he gives you. “We should get them… they’re perfect.” 

This time, you squeeze his hand back. His smile infects you, and you’re unable to do anything but return it. Nodding, you return your gaze back to the two little stuffed ornaments. “They are perfect… like us.” 

“There’s that smile I missed so much!” he says sarcastically.

“Aaaand moment ruined.”

You tug at his hand, trying to get them to finally unlink. The sweat forming in between them is getting a bit much. 

“You can’t escape from me that easily,” Hyunjin says with a smoulder.

“Ew,” you fake gag. “You’ve been hanging out with Jisung too much. Only he makes the fuckboy thing work, bestie.” 

“Bestie- zoned?” Hyunjin gasps, his over-dramatic look you’re so accustomed to taking over his features. “I thought I was your boyfriend?” 

Your smile drops and you want to smack him and his teasing into next week. “FAKE boyfriend.” 

He turns from you as he hisses to you or himself—you’re not really sure which—before he pulls you further down the aisle. 

“You’re no fun.”

two.

– november 3rd.

Looking around your dorm makes you want to throw up. 

After Hyunjin took you (read: dragged you) shopping the other day, the boy immediately took the bags of stuff to your dorm and started plastering the stuff everywhere. Now, the room is filled to the brim with golden lights and colourful tinsel, and your little desk tree was just as flashy. Considering that your space is a tiny college dorm, it makes the space feel a bit suffocating, but not unenjoyable.

You fear Hyunjin took “deck the halls” a little too far and that your dorm will catch on fire because of it, not just because of the three separate Christmas candles Hyunjin insisted on buying, but also because of how dangerously close they were to the tinsel. You wonder what your roommate, Yeri, would say about this. Actually, you’re not entirely sure when you last saw her.

You aren’t able to dwell much longer on the thought as a knock followed by a crash and yelp pulls you out of your own head. You hurry to the door and open it to find none other than your Christmas menace, Hyunjin, sprawled on his butt in front of you. Bags with what appear to be baking ingredients are spread all over the ground around him. 

“Hey~” is the only thing he says, a sheepish smile on his face, as you stare at him incredulously. 

“What’s all this?”

“It’s…” he starts as you help him up, then trails off once he’s upright. He bends down to pick up a bag of chocolate chips by his feet, then he looks at you and holds them out proudly. “…Our next date!”

You roll your eyes fondly at the boy. Of course, he already thought up a second date idea so soon. Knowing him, he’s probably been planning this since he got home after the first date.

But still, you can’t help but crack a smile. Baking cookies seems like a fun little fake date—after all, it’s hard to make Christmas cookies into some sappy Hallmark scene. Plus, you get to keep half the batch at the end.

What could go wrong?

As you help pick up the rest of the ingredients off the floor, you notice a neatly folded piece of paper fall out of Hyunjin’s pocket. You stick it in your pocket before placing a milk carton and a brown sugar pack on the kitchen island, then you take out and unfold the paper, squinting as you read it.

“Is this… Felix’s recipe?” you say. The distinct way he loops his ‘Y’s gives it away for you.

“N… No…” Hyunjin tries to convince you, but his statement comes out as more of a question than a definitive answer.

You give him another incredulous look.

“Okay, fine, it is!” he huffs, throwing his head back dramatically. “I begged him for the recipe so we could try to make it together. His cookies always come out great, so it can’t be that hard!” He grins confidently, but that facade quickly fades. “…Right?”

A smile returns to your lips. “Right! Yeah!” You’re afraid your smile looks more nervous than confident, though. “Totally…”

“We can do it! I think…”

Hyunjin laughs a little, and you follow too, even if it feels somewhat forced.

“And if we fail, we’ll just get the store-bought ones!” he adds. “Easy as pie.” A small smile dances on his lips. “Anything for my favourite girlfriend~” he sings, winking at you playfully.

Any hint of your smile, real or not, drops at the sentence.

“Fake girlfriend.”

“Potayto, potahto. Now help me with the batter.”

…

“Are you sure you’re doing this right?” you say.

Instead of jumping into baking right away, you and Hyunjin have spent the past ten minutes overwhelmed over the instructions Felix provided. It’s not that they’re difficult or anything—fifteen steps to make some cookies just feels like a lot. 

Especially to two beginners, one of which is struggling to cut a one-pound stick of butter in half with a cleaver. You’re left to watch Hyunjin nearly slice his fingers as he tries, a near-grimace twisted on your face.

“I got it, I got it!” Hyunjin grunts as he tries to push the cleaver down.  “Almost… there…”

The way his fingers are so dangerously close to the blade makes you wince. After another moment, you can’t take watching him anymore.

“Oh my god, give me the knife.”

In hindsight, it was probably a bad idea to shoo Hyunjin away from the cleaver while he’s holding it for dear life. Knowing him, he could’ve found a way to cut himself even after he let go. Luckily, you both remain unscathed and you successfully cut the butter in half.

“What’s next?” Hyunjin asks as he watches you cut one of the halves. He peeks at the recipe over your shoulder.

You scan the paper for the next step, moving it quickly so he can see, too. “Looks like the… dry ingredients? We can start with the flour, I guess.”

“Flour…”

Hyunjin hums along with “Santa Tell Me” by Ariana Grande as he digs through the ingredient pile on the island. You glance up and find yourself giggling at the silly hand gestures he makes.

“Flour coming right…” he announces, letting out a grunt as he lifts the giant bag, “…up!”

You set the cleaver aside and rush to help him carry the bag. “Why’d you buy the ten kilogram bag?!”

“I didn’t know how much we needed!” He lets out a dramatic huff once you both get the bag on a stool.

“I’m pretty sure a normal-sized bag would have been enough, Hyun.”

“Look,” Hyunjin huffs again and runs a hand through his hair, “I’ve learned from Felix, alright? This is serious cookie and movie date business and we can’t make mistakes.” 

Fake cookie date.

“But there’s going to be mistakes, that’s just how it is.” You shrug, carefully opening the bag, then letting out a sigh as a lump of flour falls out onto the floor. “Just think, Felix’s recipes weren’t perfect straight away—” 

Hyunjin cuts you off with a gasp. A hand flies over his heart as he stares at you with betrayal. “Excuse you, they’ve always been great. You’re lucky I wouldn’t tell him you said that.”

You decide not to say anything else, but get the flour ready to sieve into the mixture. “Do you want to do this or I?” 

Even though he still has too much energy, he gently pushes you out of the way and takes the sieve from your hands. “Me, me, me.” 

Without bothering to do anything else, he takes a handful of flour and dumps it into a sieve and starts tapping at the side of it. 

“Hyunjin!” you gasp, “We could at least measure it first!” 

“Live a little, Y/N!” Hyunjin sways to the music. “You said nothing has to be perfect right away! I’m trying to follow your advice.” 

You blink, half-laughing, half-scoffing. “I didn’t mean to not follow the recipe! We still have to, you know.”

Hyunjin doesn’t say anymore, he just continues to sieve the flour into the bowl. However, by the bridge of the song, he’s so into it that he’s nearly forgotten what he’s doing. While he goes on autopilot, the flour soon enough misses the bowl entirely and lands on the kitchen counter and over his shoes. 

“Oops,” he giggles. 

“I’m baking with a child,” you mutter to yourself, arms crossed over your chest. 

He picks up another handful of the flour and looks down at the mixture before looking over at you. He stares at you, you stare at him. It’s like a silent battle. 

“Don’t you dare.” 

He does dare. However, instead of throwing it at you, he throws it up; and instead of landing on you directly, it falls lightly to the floor, just barely falling into your socks. He grins and a giggle escapes his lips. 

Whatever self-control you have leaves you at that moment and you grab your own handful of flour. As you step forward, he steps back, causing you to raise an eyebrow. 

“You’re not scared… are you?” you question.

He scoffs. “Me? Scared?” He fakes a cackle. “Never!” 

You take another step forward. He takes another back. 

“So you wouldn’t mind if I—” 

Rushing forward, you push your hand into his cheek, letting the flour fall from your hand and over him. Some of the remnants left on his cheek fall as he huffs. 

“That’s it.” He grabs another scoop. “You’re on.” 

You have exactly two seconds to decide what to do before Hyunjin stalks toward you, a mischievous grin on his face and handful of flour held high. You turn and start to scramble away from him right as he pounces, trying to grab you so he can dump the flour on your head.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” He giggles tauntingly. “Don’t you want a hug from your loving boyfriend~?” 

“Fake boyfriend!” you call over your shoulder.

Trying desperately not to trip, you make a mad dash for the living room, Hyunjin’s cackles ring in your ears as he bounds closer. You get two more big steps in and just as you’re about to leap for the couch, a strong arm wraps itself around your middle and pulls you back. 

“Got you~” Hyunjin’s voice is right next to your ear and you can practically hear him smirking in victory. You wriggle around, trying to free yourself but it’s to no avail. 

You’re able to turn just enough to face him and send him the glare he deserves. He just faces you, narrowing his eyes for a second, then that look falls to a more disapproving one.

“Are you ready to follow the recipe now?” the boy asks sassily.

You want to smack his pretty face so bad.

“I hate you.”

…

Surprisingly, Hyunjin keeps his word and actually follows Felix’s recipe, word-for-word. You’re happy with how the balls of cookie dough turned out, even though you just placed them in the oven—and don’t tell Hyunjin, but you ate a bit of the dough. It’s too good.

“And now we wait twelve minutes,” you declare as you start a timer on your phone. You leave it on the island and head over to the living room.

You watch, baffled, as Hyunjin spreads out tattered-looking physical copies of a bunch of Christmas movies over your coffee table. Once they’ve landed in a heap, he turns back and looks at you, the same way a dog does when it thinks it's done something incredible. 

To say you’re confused as to why he brought over DVDs when you could just rent the movies online is an understatement. Especially when he knew full well that you somehow had access to Chan’s Netflix account—you hacked it, but is it really hacking when his password is ilovefelix143?

Hyunjin’s eyebrows basically merge. Instead of being a little happy puppy, he’s now like a puppy with his tail stuck between his legs. “Why are you looking at me like that?” 

Your eyes shift from him to the movies and back.

“You…” sigh. “You know we have Netflix, right?” 

“That’s not the same thing,” he whines. “And you know it! The vibe will be totally off if we watch them all on Netflix!”

You might as well be a fan of BlackPink because all you can do is blink. “And it won’t be if we watch them on DVD?” 

Rising his fist, Hyunjin grabs your shoulder to shake you lightly. As you attempt to push him away, his grip somehow gets tighter. 

“Just pick,” shake. “one to,” he tugs your arm. “ start with!” 

“Alright!” You huff, flailing your arms around to finally get him to drop his grip. You point in a random direction. “That one!” 

It’s his turn to blink. “You’re not pointing at shit and you know it.” 

…

With a movie finally picked out, the title screen theme of The Muppets’ Christmas Carol begins to repeat as Hyunjin is in the kitchen getting the cookies out of the oven. However, after the fifth repeat, you’re ready to pull your hair strand by strand from your head. 

“Are you almost ready?!” you call out to him. “This music is driving me insane!”

Part of you wants to complain more, but you bite your tongue. It could’ve been worse—it could’ve been the theme of When Harry Met Sally on repeat.

Hyunjin appears at the door, tray in hand. “You can’t really go mad if you’re already there.” 

If it wasn’t a threat to the precious cookies currently residing in the tray in his hands, you would have thrown every pillow on this couch at him. 

“You say I’m mean to you, but then this is how you treat me!” You gasp, watching as he rolls his eyes.

You catch the way his lip turns up into a smirk when he sets down the tray of cookies on the coffee table. 

“I’m so sorry my precious girlfriend, whom I care so deeply about, how can I ever repay you?”  

It’s go time. Grabbing the pillow, you aim and whack him over and over as he falls onto the couch, his arms up in protest, but his laughter is still loud enough to seep into your ears. “Not the face! I’m too beautiful to die this young!” 

“I,” whack. “hate,” you huff and raise the pillow above your head. “you,” whack. “so much!” 

He somehow grabs the pillow, pulling it towards him. But with his strength, he accidentally pulls you forward, causing you to fall onto his chest. Like on instinct, his arms wrap around you tightly to stop you from falling off of the couch. 

You feel his breath on your ear as he lets out a chuckle and it makes a tingle run up your spine.

“I know you love me.” 

You’re up in a flash, using all of your strength to push him off of the couch and onto the floor. 

“AHH!!!”

You snicker at the loud shriek Hyunjin makes. Plopping your bum on the couch, you shoot your fake boyfriend a petty stare as you reach for a cookie and, very slowly, take a huge bite.

Holy shit. You’ve never tasted a cookie so good before. The way the gooey, melty goodness dances in your mouth is so addictive, you barely notice Hyunjin giving you a death glare from the floor.

“What?” you say with your mouth full, reaching for the remote.

“That’s supposed to be our batch,” he sneers nasally, as if he’s Squidward himself. You try not to spit out the food in your mouth.

“Not anymore.” You point the remote at the TV and hit ‘play’. “You can get the next batch.”

three.

– november 10th.

“Can we let go for a bit?” you mumble, causing Hyunjin to look at you. “My hand is getting sweaty.” 

“Oh, sorry,” Hyjnjin gasps, looking down at your hands. He lets go and rubs his palm against his jeans to wipe off the stickiness that has formed.

“Why are we holding hands so early, anyway?” you ask. “I know we’re telling the guys we’re ‘dating’ today, but they’re not even here yet.” 

Hyunjin blinks at you, takes your hand again, and entwines your fingers. “Because we have to make it look believable from a distance.” 

You try not to laugh. “You think they’ll even notice if we’re holding hands?”

He shrugs, locking eyes with the student worker that’s staring in your general direction. He attempts to follow their gaze. It seems like they’re looking at his and your hands. They could also just be waiting for the microwave oven to ding so they can serve someone their bagel. You never know, though.

“I mean,” he gestures to the cafe worker, “if that person notices, then our friends probably will.”

You raise an eyebrow. “I don’t think that person cares.”

“For Hyunjin?” another cafe worker calls.

With your hand still in his, Hyunjin gently pulls you with him to pick up a freshly-made sandwich for you, and bagel for him. He mumbles a ‘thank you’ before grabbing some napkins and heading for the seating area, scooting past students to the table for four he set his backpack on to call dibs. When the college cafe is always packed for lunch, claiming a table was more than necessary.

Hyunjin presses a finger to his chin as he thinks of where to sit, which chair will allow him optimal coupley vibes. After a moment of contemplation, he chooses one of the seats right by the window.

This prompts you to move to the one opposite of him. But before you can sit down, Hyunjin reaches across the table to grab your wrist.

“No! Sit on this side,” he says, gently tugging your arm.

“Why?”

“I told you, we have to make it believable! Remember?”

It’s a perfect plan. If Hyunjin acts as utterly sappy as possible, his and your friends will surely fall for it. What better way to scream ‘lovesick college couple’ than to sit on the same side of the table together? 

Also, how do you hold hands with someone who’s sitting across from you? Spoiler: you don’t.

But for now, you both eat. You plop down on the chair next to Hyunjin, albeit begrudgingly at first, and you end up finishing your sandwich fairly quickly. Hyunjin, however, takes his time. Not because he’s not hungry—he’s starving. But having half a bagel to work his way through is good in case things get awkward later on.

See? Perfect.

Soon enough, Hyunjin catches two familiar heads enter the cafe. He reaches for your hand under the table, lacing his fingers with yours when you take his hand with a sigh. He even considers subtly scooting his chair over to be even closer to you. Something in the dark crevices of his mind keeps begging him to do it. He’s not even sure why, but he scolds at that voice to wait a moment.

His eyes carefully follow Changbin and Jisung as they get out of line. They both wave at him, and he awkwardly waves back before they turn to each other.

After what feels like an eternity, Changbin steps up to the counter to grab two bagels. Then he follows Jisung to your table.

“What’s up, sweetcheeks?” Jisung says.

Hyunjin glances at you and when you look back, you make an expression as if to tell him ‘go on then’. Hyunjin however, decides against that, turning his attention back to the two boys sitting across from them. 

Changbin’s already stuck half of the bagel in his mouth to the point he’s struggling to chew. It’s disgusting, but for some reason it keeps Hyunjin in a trance. When that trance is broken by you swiftly jabbing him in the rib, he winces, glares at you, and looks back over the table. 

“About that,” Hyunjin laughs awkwardly. If he wasn’t already holding your hand, he would have gone for it to try and calm his nerves. 

“What is it?” Jisung asks, ripping a piece of his bagel off and chucking it into his mouth. “You two finally shacking up?” 

Hyunjin sits there stunned, only listening as you groan in disgust. 

“What is wrong with you?” you say.

Jisung smiles and sends a wink to you before leaning back in his seat. “It’s just my talent, baby.” 

Hyunjin keeps his eyes locked on his bag. This is fake, he repeats in his mind after the word ‘baby’ is uttered from Jisung’s lips. Why does it bother him so much? It shouldn’t bother him—it never has before. This isn’t real. It’s just a simple word Jisung has used to refer to literally everyone in your friend group. Hyunjin’s heard worse come from the boy’s mouth. ‘Sweetcheeks’, ‘’bubby wubby’, schmoopy poopy poo’... all Jisung said this time was ‘baby.’

This is fake.

Hyunjin feels you squeeze his hand. He squeezes it back as he finally looks up. You’re looking at him with your eyebrows furrowed, silently asking him what’s wrong.

This isn’t real…

Now his heart burns. He decides to blame it on too much cream cheese on his bagel. 

“What did you want to tell us?” Changbin tries to say as he gulps down his bagel before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

Hyunjin glances over at you, and then back to his friends. He raises your enjoined hands. 

“So… we’re dating!” 

Changbin nearly chokes on his bagel at Hyunjin’s words. He looks up slowly, following your and Hyunjin’s arms up to where your hands meet, and he nods once. “Oh. Well, damn.”

Jisung, on the other hand, takes a moment longer to process the news. But when he does, his jaw slowly drops and he takes in a sharp breath. “Oh. My. GO—”

“Yah, shut up!” Hyunjin leans over across the table to slap a hand over Jisung’s mouth.

“…God,” the younger boy finishes his sentence quietly, his voice muffled.

Hyunjin maintains his stare at the younger boy as he slowly begins to pull back. No more screaming, he begs. He’s had enough of it for the rest of the year.

A tension hangs in the air around the four of them. Changbin goes back to carelessly munching on his bagel, and Jisung is gazing at Hyunjin and you, his very fake girlfriend, with an almost-maniacal smile.

“Soooo…” Jisung starts after a minute. Hyunjin can literally feel him gleefully kicking his legs under the table. “Who confessed first?”

Hyunjin pales at the question. He forgot to go over a cover story with you.

Luckily, before he can struggle to give an answer, Changbin swoops in and unknowingly buys him some time.

“Why are you the one who’s happy?” he questions. “I’m the one who won the bet!”

Hyunjin’s eyes widen. “You guys bet on us?!”

“We all did,” Changbin says. “Now Jisung owes half our group ten dollars each.”

“Wait, but we still don’t know who confessed first!” Jisung says.

“Why is that important?” Hyunjin says.

“‘Cause it was part of the bet, too!” 

Hyunjin stills again and looks at you helplessly. He squeezes your hand as if to signal that he needs you to come up with something, and fast. Something about how he had the most magical confession to end all confessions during the first snow that didn’t even happen yet this year.

“I-It was me,” you finally say.

Hyunjin has to stop himself from looking at you in surprise.

Jisung gasps loudly again. He’s so wholly entranced, Hyunjin doesn’t know how lucky he should consider himself for it. “Really?” 

Hyunjin watches as you clear your throat before nodding. You smile in a way that he swears he’s never seen before. You tilt your head and break your eye contact with Jisung to look over at him, then you look back at Jisung. 

“You expect him to confess?” You giggle lightly, gesturing to Hyunjin. “All he talks about is how he wants someone to confess to him.”

The two boys across from them are just nodding in agreement. That is true, Hyunjin thinks. He’s probably been talking about that since he started college, maybe even before. He can’t really describe the feelings that come from somebody confessing their feelings to you. 

“And…” you continue, “after the failed confession with Jisoo, I realised I should take it as a sign to confess.” 

You’re smiling to yourself as you shrug your shoulders, keeping your eyes down on the table. Hyunjin has never seen you act—and act this well. Jisung and Changbin are totally hooked, nodding along to everything you’re saying. They’re like two little children listening to a bedtime story doing everything they can to stay awake. You’ve got them wrapped around your pinky finger.

Hyunjin’s gaze focuses on your hand in his. He brings them to his lap and begins to play with your fingers, letting your words between the boys fade into the background. His mind is still lingering around the thoughts of Jisoo and the failed confession. 

He still isn’t completely sure what happened there. Why his crush, whom he was sure he was in love with, faded so quickly and so suddenly. He never thought falling out of like—or love—with someone could be that easy… but if he thought about it too much, he’d probably worry about the possibility of love. He decides that’s not a thought for now. 

“Woah,” Jisung says, his mouth hanging open. “That’s crazy.”

“That means you owe us another five dollars, genius,” Changbin says.

Jisung quickly turns to Changbin. “Let me grieve for my wallet first!” Hyunjin watches as Jisung rests his head in his hands in despair. 

“Why would you even bet on Hyunjin confessing first?” You can’t help but laugh. “You set yourself up for failure.” 

“Because maybe I had faith in him!!” Jisung exclaims, looking up at you. “I thought he’d have it in him!”

You glance at Hyunjin, smile sheepishly, and look back at the two boys that sit across the table from you.

“Well you should have known him better.”

“Ooookay,” Hyunjin says, suddenly moving to stand. “We, um, we gotta get going.” He turns to you, hoping you get the message. “Right, Y/N?”

You nod quickly and stand up too. “Yeah, we were gonna have a study date together,” you say as you gather your things.

“Okay, have fun,” Changbin says coolly.

“But we were just getting started!” Jisung counters.

Hyunjin lets out a sigh. “We’ll tell you guys everything tomorrow, okay?”

Jisung’s eyes narrow and he raises an eyebrow. The way he’s staring Hyunjin down is making him want to shrink up and hide. 

After a moment of awkwardness on Hyunjin’s part, Jisung opens his mouth to speak. 

“Tell us everything?” 

“Define ‘everything’, Ji,” you respond before Hyunjin has the chance to. 

“Everything means everything,” Jisung drawls out. “Like, come on guys, give us the details! The nitty gritty of it all!” He’s now leaning over the table as he pleads. “I just wanna know all about my two best friends’ relationship! Is that so weird?!” 

You share a look with Hyunjin. You’re giggling, rolling your eyes as you look back over at the boy. “Find your own girlfriend, Ji, don’t live through our relationship.” 

Jisung huffs, falling back into his chair with his arms crossed. “You guys are no fun.”

“We’ll see you tomorrow,” you say, and you both wave at the two boys. Changbin happily responds and Jisung, still grumpy, begrudgingly waves back. 

Luckily, this seems to be enough for you and Hyunjin to leave. Hyunjin swings your hands lightly, fingers still entwined, as the cafe door shuts behind you with a small squeak. 

There is no study date. There wasn’t really any regular ‘date’ planned—not unless the confessing? lying? to your friends counts. 

Regardless, you and Hyunjin look at each other and silently agree. You both deserve a sweet treat after that.

four.

– november 17th.

You wouldn’t dare tell Hyunjin, but once he told you about his “fantastical Friday date idea” earlier this afternoon, you’ve been feeling like a bottle of Coke about to explode.

Sure, he’s been a little crazy about hitting all the stereotypical Christmas romance activities, but this is ice skating! It’s fun and it’s romantic enough to scratch Hyunjin’s itch, but not too romantic. You’re only fake-boyfriend and fake-girlfriend, after all.

“Y/N?”

Hyunjin waves a hand in front of your face, bringing you out of your daze. You must have been staring at the fake icicles for too long.

“Huh? Yeah?” you say, blinking a few times.

He holds up two pairs of rental ice skates, one for you and one for him. “I already paid, let’s go put these on.”

You wander over to the benches where other skaters are lacing up. They make it look so effortless, but you and Hyunjin keep getting your fingers tangled in the long laces. And every time you attempt to stand up, your ankles feel so wobbly that you have to sit back down and tighten them. 

Eventually, your skates feel secure enough that you don’t wobble too much when you do make it to your feet. You look over at Hyunjin, who doesn’t look like he’s faring any better than you. 

“Do you think you can get up?” you ask. You’re starting to figure out how to balance, but you hold on to the edge of a table just in case.

“Yeah,” Hyunjin hums confidently. However, the deer-in-headlights look on his face as he slowly lifts his bum off the bench says otherwise. You’d laugh at him more than you already are if you didn’t do the same.

“Are you sure you can get up?”

“Totally!”

As if to prove you wrong, Hyunjin slowly begins to stand up. When he’s upright, he lifts one hand off the bench, then the other. Then he slowly shuffles one foot after the other in the direction of the rink, until he loses balance and nearly falls into the splits.

You try not to snort at his cry that echoes throughout the rink. Of course, you do the same as you try to follow him and your dear best friend returns the favour.

“HAH! Karma!” Hyunjin points and laughs at you before slipping and falling on his back.

“Hyunjin!” you exclaim, shuffling over to help him up.

“I’m fine!” he tries to reassure you once he’s upright again. He reaches for your hand as he waddles his way to the rink, this time successfully, and with you in tow.

You let out the breath you’re holding once your other hand finds the edge of the wall. Maybe you came into the rink too cocky, or maybe the old couple doing laps around you and Hyunjin made this look easy.

After you recenter yourself—well, after trying to—you look at Hyunjin, who has a death grip on your hand. “Are you okay?”

“Yep!” The boy smiles. “Very fine!” He slowly lets go of your hand, attempting to get away from the wall. He’s successful for a few seconds, then he finds himself wobbling again and he quickly grabs onto your arm.

Giggling, you try to shake him off. “Hyun, you’re gonna make me fall, too!”

He doesn’t respond for a beat. When you turn to look back at him, his legs are shaking, but he’s got a stupid smirk plastered on his face. Even when he’s visibly struggling, of course he has to do this.

“Oh, am I?”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, fuck off.”

You try to free your hand again. Somehow, his grip gets even tighter, and he manages to slide his hand down your arm and thread his fingers with yours.

“You’re gonna be wishing you’re holding my hand soon enough,” Hyunjin muses.

“Whatever you say, fake boyfriend,” you sigh sarcastically.

The old couple passes you by again; they seem to be out-skating every couple on the ice by this point. As they go in circles together, they show off their best disco moves as if they were on roller skates instead. The old man, as he swings past you two a second time, makes a heart with his hands behind the old woman, pumping it in the air to the beat of “Mistletoe” by Justin Bieber as his wife continues to dance.

You don’t look back at Hyunjin, but you can imagine the stars in his eyes as he watches them. Instead, you pay attention to the way they move their feet. Push out with your right foot, then with your left. Right, left, right, left. With Hyunjin still gripping on tightly to your hand, you attempt to copy it.

“H-Hey!” Hyunjin squeaks from behind you. “What are you doing?!”

“Trying to get off the wall!” you say. You turn your head to look at him briefly. “You want to be a cute fake couple like those two,” you gesture to the old couple, “right?”

He stumbles over a ‘maybe’, but there’s no denying the way he wistfully watches the old man carefully spin the old woman.

You smile fondly. “Then come on. Watch how they move and try to do the same.”

It takes several laps and several more minutes to get into a rhythm. You can’t say that you’re gliding across the ice, but you’re holding your own without clinging to the wall. Barely. Hyunjin, on the other hand, suddenly seems like a natural. His graceful strides make you question if he was feigning clumsiness half an hour ago, or if he was just that good.

You try to catch up to him as you both make a turn and he looks back to check on you. He smiles at you and holds up a peace sign, flashing you a wink—and you freeze. You were already using all your brainpower to remember to keep moving your feet, and just like that, you forget everything you’re doing.

By the time you snap out of your daze, you’re about to crash into Hyunjin. You yelp, flailing as you try to brake. Hyunjin tries to catch you before you fall flat on your face, but you end up pulling him down with you and falling backwards.

Then you realise the position you’re both in. You’re on your back, and Hyunjin is half on top of you. You’re trying to catch your breath, but the way he tries to prop himself up with his elbows somehow sucks the air out of your lungs all over again.

“Hyun, slow down,” you say as he almost slips again. You catch his arms in yours and lose your breath for a third time. “One foot at a time, okay?”

You swear Hyunjin spaces out as you speak—there’s a gleam in his eyes you can’t quite place. But the gleam goes away just as quickly as it came, and he begins to regain his balance enough to stand up.

He holds out his hands for you and you grab on. He then slowly pulls, allowing you to find a way to get up with a pair of blades on your feet.

When you’re nearly upright, you take a wrong step and feel yourself flying backwards. You flail your arms as you try to prepare to land, but you feel Hyunjin’s arm wrap around your waist and pull you in just in time.

For a second, you feel like you’re in a cheesy Disney movie. The moment happened so fast, but feels so slow in hindsight. Now you’re here, your jaw dropped open in surprise, as your hands find their way to Hyunjin’s shoulders. Is this how Cinderella or something felt—

Wait, what the fuck?

“Are you okay?” Hyunjin says. His eyes search yours for any sign of hurt.

You take a beat to respond, nodding rapidly. “Y-Yeah, I’m okay.”

Hyunjin nods once. “Oookay. Do you wanna keep going?”

Right there, you contemplate just packing up and going back to your dorm. Even though the only one staring at you is Hyunjin, it feels like a thousand pairs of eyes are boring into your soul.

However, something in your heart, or maybe your brain, begs you to stay. So you nod.

five.

– november 20th.

Hyunjin stands and leans against the stairrail by the front of the university library. He’s too busy fiddling with his perfectly curated Christmas playlist, fall in love with me (this christmas), to even notice you pull up in your car. So when you honk the horn, he yelps and falls on his butt, then down a couple stairs, before sending daggers your way.

He watches as your passenger side window rolls down slowly and your shit-eating grin becomes clear from behind it. 

“You ready to go?” you ask.

Hyunjin, still glaring at you, slowly nods his head in response. 

“Then get off your ass!” you say. “You’re the one that wanted to go to this!”

He gets up with a dramatic huff and drags himself to the passenger seat of the car. The second he hops in, he leans forward and grabs your aux cord, plugging it into his phone and unlocks his phone, once again showing the Christmas playlist.

Meanwhile, you watch him in amusement. “You want aux?”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes at your sarcasm. But he answers regardless, too excited about the idea of a Christmas tree farm date. Another thing from his bucket list of Christmas dates to check off.

“Of course I want aux!” 

Clicking shuffle, he cheers to himself when the mystical violin intro of “Christmas Tree Farm" by Taylor Swift begins to play. Clicking twice to make the song repeat, he locks his phone before placing it in one of the free cup holders. 

“This is perfect!” He claps to himself, swaying the best he can to the music as he fastens his seat belt. “🎶And I’m somewhere else… just like magic… 🎶”  he sings along.

He looks over at you and you’re watching him again. This time he can’t tell if it’s in amusement or bafflement. “Can we go now?” 

Hyunjin nods, leaning back into his seat with a content smile. “You could’ve started when I got into the car.”

He lets his gaze linger on you for a second. When you look at him, he quickly looks away. Maybe he’s too impatient, but when he looks back at you a moment later to see if you have finally turned your focus to the road in front of you, you’re still staring right at him.

His cheeks begin to feel warm. Your gaze is practically peering into his soul, and you have your heater on full blast—it feels like a sauna in here. It’s not his fault you get cold so easily. It’s also not his fault a little voice in his head is telling him to use it as an excuse to be near you…

No. Bad Hyunjin.

He quickly shoves the thought away into a neat little box, something future Hyunjin will have to deal with. Right now, all present-day Hyunjin cares about is Miss Swift playing through the speakers.

And so he starts humming, which soon turns to quiet singing. Soon enough, the quiet singing soon turns into full-blown yelling of the lyrics. He’s here for the vibe, and the vibe is immaculate. 

“🎶AND YOU WOULD BE THERE TOOOO~!!🎶”

Good Hyunjin!

“Hyun, shut up! I can’t see the road!” you shout, your voice carrying over the music.

Hyunjin throws his head back in feigned agony. “Okayyy, okay!” he groans before bringing it down to quiet singing for the rest of the song.

When the music fades out, it’s silent for a moment. Hyunjin feels his cheeks hurt from how much he’s smiling. When it starts again, he bounces in his seat.

“Again?” you question, bringing his attention back to you. “Can’t we go to the next song?” 

He gasps and shakes his head. “Nuh-uh! It’s for the vibe, Y/N!” He nods slowly to emphasise his point. “The vibe!” 

You nod, your face full of confusion. “And the vibe is…?”

“That we’re literally going to a Christmas tree farm! Do you know how exciting that is?!” Hyunjin turns right to you as you pull up to a stop sign. He almost gets lost in your eyes when you look back at him. “It’s one of the key Christmas dates in the movies! And there’s a whole song about it!” He lets himself ramble on for a minute, trying not to get too lost in his fantasies. Despite his efforts, he soon feels himself about to spiral…

Then you look away.

Hyunjin lets out a sigh as he glances over at you. You’re focused on the road, your eyes flickering around as you wait for a good time to merge lanes. He knows that you only looked away to continue driving, but deep down, he fears that he pushed you away with his babbling.

He just looks down at his lap before he speaks, his voice trembling slightly. “Look, I… I know you hate Christmas, but—” 

“I don’t hate Christmas…” 

Hyunjin is surprised he can hear you with how quietly you’re talking.

“I…” You sigh. “I just don’t understand why you’re so obsessed with this ‘Christmas romance’ thing. Like, what makes it more special than a romance-romance?” 

“Because…” He takes a breath before releasing it. “Christmas is magical.” 

The song ends. He reaches for his phone and his finger hovers over the pause button.

“Hyunnie, you don’t need to stop the—”

He stops the music, ignoring the sigh you let out when you do.

“It’s just…” he starts, then trails off. “I…”

A beat of silence.

“You…?”

Hyunjin looks at you, trying to read your reaction. It’s hard to tell if your furrowed brow is from concentration or confusion.

“Like…” he starts again, then he sighs.

How would he even begin to explain that the warm, fuzzy feeling he gets from Christmas, is one he’s only ever experienced secondhand? How is he supposed to tell you that he hopelessly projects onto an array of chiselled brunet men in cheesy holiday movies without sounding insane? That he dreams of taking walks in the snow and under the Christmas lights and in Christmas tree farms with someone, like all the male leads on the Hallmark channel seem to do? Will it seem naive? Or childish?

At the same time, though, if all these ordinary guys can find love without even trying… who’s to say he can’t, too?

“It’s… like… why wouldn’t you want that, you know?”

But of course, Hyunjin’s feelings are so grand that he can’t find the words to explain it.

You let out a sigh again, a more sympathetic one this time. “I… I guess? I…”

Hyunjin watches you carefully as you find your words. He realises, a few moments later, that he’s holding his breath. Why is he holding his breath? It’s as if this is a big deal. But it’s not. It’s just you.

You shrug, and something in him twists. “I– I don’t know. I just… I can’t see it for myself.”

A thick silence hangs in the air. It seems to taunt Hyunjin, pointing and laughing at him like the playground bully for even daring to open his mouth. He bites his tongue for another moment or two, thinking of a way to lessen the tension. But after that, he can’t bear the silence anymore. 

The song begins again. Maybe he was right to feel like a child.

…

By the time you park, the mood inside the car is much colder than the weather outside it. Hyunjin shuts the door behind him and lets it slam, even though he knows you’ll be annoyed about it. He shoves his hands inside his jacket pockets and hides himself the best he can in the collar of his coat. 

In a moment, you’re next to him. Your own hands in your pockets as you silently glaze over the mass of trees that seem to go on for miles. You both stand there for an uncertain amount of time, just utterly blown away by the amount of Christmas trees.

In the corner of his eye, Hyunjin notices you hold out your hand in front of him and leave it there. He stares at it wordlessly, and after a moment or two of nothing, you make grabby hand motions at him like a small child.

“What?” he questions quietly. When he finally looks over at you, you’re too busy staring at the lights beyond the entrance to look back.

“Just come on. We’ve got a date to enjoy…” You pause and take a breath.  “Boyfriend.”

A breath hitches in the back of his throat. You merely mumbled that last word, but Hyunjin heard it loud and clear. You begin to bring your hand closer to his again, motioning silently for him to take it, and he mentally curses at himself for how quickly his lips twitch up into a small smile.

Slowly, he reaches over and takes your hand in his, linking your fingers together. He uses every fibre of his being not to beam like an idiot.

“Where do we start?” you say, not really aiming the question at anyone.

Hyunjin shrugs. “I mean, we can start with the Christmas trees…”

His comment earns a chuckle from you, then a light punch to the arm. It’s a pity chuckle, but he’ll take what he can get. “No shit.”

Chuckling too, he gently tugs at your hand. “Come on, the Christmas tree farm awaits.”

Hyunjin squeezes your hand lightly as he leads you to the counter. He slips a five-dollar bill in the donation jar before walking in the farm with you. The golden lights of the welcome arch surround him with warmth, just like the feeling of your hand in his, as he makes a beeline for the rows of Christmas trees.

To Hyunjin, you seem content with him guiding you around all of the large Christmas trees, even when he takes longer than necessary to take in the waft of fresh pine coming from a few of them. He tries to hold back at first, but eventually he stops at a tree and comments on how much prettier it would look with a string of colourful lights and candy canes lining its needles. Then you two stop at the next tree, and he babbles about how fun it would be to have a real tree one year.

He’s sure he has stars in his eyes much brighter than the one he’d put on top of a real Christmas tree. And he’s lucky that it’s just you with him and you allow him to ramble on, nodding along as he does so. Every once in a while, he looks at you for your reaction to something he said, and he catches the small smile on your face. Whether it’s at him or the children who chase each other through the gaps between the trees, he doesn’t care. He’s just happy that you’re happy, and indulging in his silly fantasies.

There’s a relaxing aura about being at a Christmas tree farm that Hyunjin never expected. Well, maybe he should’ve expected this from the movies he’s watched, but experiencing the warm atmosphere himself is different than seeing it on a screen. The trees around you two seem to lift the tension from the car off your shoulders. He feels lighter, more at peace. And, more importantly, so do you.

The sun has dipped below the horizon, making way for strings of lights towards the centre of the farm. Lines of a purple hue dip upward to a point that stands taller than all the pine trees that seem to go on for miles. Maybe there’s something there that Hyunjin missed.

The light glow catches your attention, too, and you start walking closer to it, keeping a hold on his hand. You two weave through the rows of Christmas trees until you happen to pass the last row, and you find a spectacle of sparkling lights. Lines of red and white make a tent shape and meet the purple lights at the top. Beneath them, two reindeer made of wire and golden lights greet you. They almost look like they’re cuddling under the tent of red and white—something about it makes Hyunjin’s heart sing.

“Wow…” he whispers to himself.

And somehow, without realising it, words leave your lips softly. Hyunjin is so in awe of the lights, he barely notices.  “🎶Under the mistletoe…🎶”

He almost doesn’t feel your head lightly rest against his shoulder. The reindeer… why is it reminding him of you two?

“🎶Watching the fire glow…🎶”

The faint melody makes Hyunjin’s ear perk up, causing him to turn and gaze at you. You’re too immersed in the trees and the occasional giggling child running through to even notice you’re quietly singing “Christmas Tree Farm'' to yourself. 

It makes Hyunjin’s heart race just like it did back in the car. However, now, he doesn’t have the car heaters to blame his red cheeks on. He’s thankful you're too absorbed in your own little world to even notice anything going on around you. 

“🎶And telling me, ‘I love you’ …🎶”

It’s like whatever is above is blessing him, letting him in on a little secret, in the form of light snowdrops falling from the sky. They land so delicately on your hair and shoulders and there’s a little flicker in your eyes that Hyunjin can’t ignore.

Never once in his life did he think he would see the first snow with someone. But now that he is, the hopeless romantic in him is screaming at him what he should have known all along.

“🎶Just being in your arms…🎶”

There is no big realisation. There is no big freak-out. There’s nothing to unpack or be scared about when his heart swells just that little bit more than usual. As he’s looking at you—still too oblivious to notice—everything just makes sense. There is no need for perfect, there is no need for the unattainable. 

All he needs is you.

“🎶Takes me back to that little farm…🎶”

He doesn’t need to second guess himself, or try to convince himself of anything. He just knows. All the stories he was told by his parents, the ones he watched in the movies, every little fairytale that he’s held onto his whole life is true.

Maybe it’s not childish, and maybe he didn’t need to chase his fairytale moment at all.

He already has it.

“🎶Where every wish comes true…🎶” 

As you continue to mumble the lyrics to yourself, Hyunjin squeezes your hand, finally bringing your attention back to him. 

“Thank you for being here with me.” He smiles sweetly.

Your returning smile makes his heart do laps. “No, thank you.” 

He squeezes your hand again. You squeeze his back.

six.

– november 23rd.

It’s only when the mass of people leaving your class dissipates that you notice Hyunjin standing out in the hallway waiting for you. He’s leaning up against the wall, focused on his phone. When he finally looks up and sees you, his smile grows and he pockets his phone, holding a hand out to you.

You raise your eyebrow and glance at his hand for a second too long before he makes grabby hands at you. A giggle escapes your lips. “Why do you want to hold my hand so badly?” You take his hand before he can answer.

“Because my dearest and best girlfriend in the world, it’s time for another date,” he muses, skipping slightly and rocking your entwined hands in a more exaggerated fashion. 

Humming and nodding your head, you lean into him slightly. “What are we going to do?”

He shrugs. “I was thinking we go to the park close to campus? Since the snow has settled and everything, we can just walk around for a couple hours until I have to go to class.”

It’s then that you register that Hyunjin called you his girlfriend. Not his fake girlfriend, just his girlfriend. You don’t do anything to correct him right now.

Instead, you look up at him, a pout gracing your lips. “But I was going to studyyyy.”

Hyunjin just shoots you a doubtful look back. “Oh, really?”

“Uh-huh!” you whine. The professor of the class you just got out of kept hinting at a pop quiz next session—considering that you failed the last pop quiz, you really didn’t want to fail a second one.

Nodding slowly, Hyunjin still looks sceptical. “Riiiight, okay.”

“I’m serious! We’re graduating soon, I can’t flunk out now!”

Hyunjin nods again. “Okaaaay, but you have…” he counts with his fingers on his free hand, “five days until then!” He stops in the middle of the walkway, stepping in front of you and taking not one, but both your hands in his. “Come onnnn, please? It’s just one day! And it snowed! It’s the perfect day to not study!”

When you respond with a blank stare, it seems like Hyunjin is forced to take drastic measures. So he tries one more very convincing line. “I’ll make you a hot chocolate when we get home! I know how much you love hot chocolate. Pleeeease?”

Something about the way his bottom lip juts out and his eyes twinkle with hope makes you want to cup his cheeks in your hands and… punch him. Yes, exactly, punch him right in the face. Hit him where it hurts.

But alas, despite your growing urge to lovingly ki…ck him off the fifth floor of the university library, you know even that won’t stop him begging you to ditch studying. So you sigh.

“Make it with milk, not water; whipped cream and chocolate syrup on top. Don’t forget the marshmallows.” That quiz will have to wait another day, but seeing the wave of happiness and relief wash over Hyunjin’s face right before he crushes you in a hug makes it worth it.

“Deal!”

…

The park is less crowded than you thought it would be. In your experience as a college student, you thought more of you would use the snow as a way to escape the stress of upcoming deadlines. Yes, you had to be bribed with hot chocolate to be here, but still. If you know, you know.

Regardless, you’re not complaining that you and Hyunjin basically have the whole park to yourselves.

“We should sit under there,” Hyunjin says, pointing to a cedar tree. Never mind the blanket of snow covering its needles that could fall on your heads.

You look up at him, your face sour. “Is that really a good idea?”

“Oh… right,” he says sheepishly, then points to a bench several feet away from it. “How about there?”

You nod and let him drag you there, ignoring the pathways and cutting through the grass. You take it as an excuse to hear the snow crunch underneath your shoes.

As you both approach the bench, Hyunjin slowly lets go of your hand to scurry ahead of you and wipe the thin layer of snow from its surface. It earns a cry from him at how cold it is, causing you to shake your head fondly. 

“Why not get your gloves out?” you ask.

“I forgot I had them!” He plops down on the bench with a frown and pats the spot next to him. “Sit.”

You take a seat, pulling your backpack off your shoulders and onto your lap. Reaching in the front pocket, you blindly search for his and your gloves. When your fingers graze the soft fabric, you pull both pairs out and hand Hyunjin’s pair to him.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, hurrying to slip his gloves on his hands. Once you do the same, he holds his hand out to you.

You furrow your brow at him. “We just held hands earlier?”

Hyunjin pouts. “But my hands are cold.”

“Is that not what the gloves are for?”

“Y/N…” he pulls out the bottom lip and puppy dog eyes again. Oh no…

Your eyes guiltily flicker between his outstretched hand and his face. His stupid, pouty face that is making your heart feel things you don’t want to think about. God..

“It’s coooold,” Hyunjin whines. “And it’s a coupley thing to snuggle when it’s cold, right?”

Fake couple. But you don’t correct him out loud.

“Okay, okay,” you huff, taking his hand in yours. He smiles and entwines your fingers together.

You and Hyunjin sit in silence for a while hand-in-hand as you take in the serenity. Sounds of children giggling faintly ring from the other side of the small park, and the blanket of powdery snow in front of you is still fresh and untouched. You feel so at peace here, you don’t notice you’re scooting closer to Hyunjin.

Wait. You’re scooting closer to Hyunjin. And you’re leaning your head on his shoulder.

It’s because it’s cold. Yeah. Your bum is freezing and you could use the body heat of a fellow human. It’s like how penguins huddle for warmth in the winter, except you’re not in Antarctica; you’re in a quaint little park on a snowy day with your best friend—fake boyfriend.

And as a good fake boyfriend does, Hyunjin lets go of your hand in response and slips his arm around your shoulders. You feel his cheek gently rest on top of your head. You instinctively wrap an arm around his waist—instinctively? How did you know to do that? What are you doing?

Right, you’re snuggling. Snuggling like any ordinary couple would do. It doesn’t matter if you’re a fake couple; this is how you fake it till you make it, as they say. So you just stay like this for a few minutes. Hyunjin’s making for a great cuddler, anyway. Is he worried about not being as good as the guys in whatever movies he watches? He shouldn’t. Because he’s gentle and warm and sweet and now he’s kissing the top of your head.

Wait, what are you doing?

Your eyes fly wide open. You don’t move, but suddenly Hyunjin’s too warm and you feel suffocated in his arms. Now, all you can think of is any excuse to get up.

As if the universe was answering your prayers, a small tennis ball rolls by your feet. You look at the light green ball, then the dog leaping through the snow to chase it, then a kid you assume is its owner, far away but visibly out of breath. Letting go of Hyunjin, you bend down to grab the ball, running a few feet away before chucking the ball in the kid’s direction.

After watching the dog dash after the ball for a moment, you feel something cold splat against your back. You gasp in surprise and turn to see a frowning Hyunjin.

“You left me for a dog!” he whines childishly. He tries not to smile, but lets out a giggle at the end of his sentence.

You stare at him with your jaw dropped. “He’s cuter than you!”

He gasps loudly in offence and chucks another snowball at you.

“Who’s cuter now?!”

You scoop up some snow and toss it at his chest. “Still the dog!”

He gets up and runs straight for you. You squeak and run away, looping around the cedar tree close to the bench to try and slow him down. He quickly catches up with you, and you soon feel his arms wrap around you and pull you back. You let out a squeal at the move.

“You thought you could get away with that, huh?!” he says in between giggles. You’re just as giggly.

“Let me go!”

“Not until you say I’m cuter than that dog!”

He looks at you and you look up at him. He’s trying to pout at you, but you’re both laughing too much to take him seriously. But there’s something in his eyes, or maybe in his silly back-hug, that feels different… but you don’t want to think about that right now.

Instead, you smile and poke his cheek with one finger.

“Okay, fine. But only just a little.”

seven.

– december 1st.

Hyunjin feels himself buzzing from excitement as he guides you, hand-in-hand, through the busy streets of downtown. He would never admit it outright, but ever since you came up with the idea of fake Christmas dates, watching the switching on of the Christmas lights was high on his list. He’s dreamt of counting down the seconds until holiday lights illuminate the city, and has watched them alone. Just… not with someone. Not with someone who means as much to him as you do. 

He can’t tell what’s louder: his heart thumping when your hand squeezes his as you both tuck and swerve through the busy crowd, or the crowd itself. After his realisation a few weeks prior,  there’s something new and addicting about how your hand feels in his—like they were pieces of a puzzle, like they were destined to fit each other. He can’t get enough of it.  He wonders if Christmas romance movie characters feel their heart beating as fast as his when he’s around you. And he wonders if it makes your heart race just as much, if there’s even a slight possibility that you look at him the same way he’s grown to look at you. 

A slight tug on his hand pulls him out of his daze for just a moment. He looks back at you, who points excitedly at the giant Christmas tree in the heart of the plaza you two had just walked past. Smiling fondly, he follows you to get a closer look.

Hyunjin stops next to you, looking up at the huge, sparkling tree in front of you. He takes a moment to marvel at the bright lights strung across the expanse of the tree, the tinsel hanging from each branch,  and red and gold ornaments sprinkled throughout. The tree stands at such a great height, Hyunjin can barely see the shining gold star perched atop it. 

As his gaze drifts downward, across the tree again, his eyes fall on you standing by his side. In that moment, under the glittering lights bouncing off the small ornaments, Hyunjin thinks you’ve never looked prettier. You’re looking up at the tree in wonder, twinkles in your eyes as you take in the sights. You’re unaware of the way Hyunjin beholds you like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever seen. All the glowing lights surrounding you go dim in comparison every time you smile. 

To Hyunjin, you’re the sun, and he’s just a star in your orbit, circling around you and living for every moment your warm light shines on him. Without you, his world would be cold and dark, just as it was before you came into his life. 

Eventually, he tears his eyes away from you, focusing once again on the tree. Between the strings of bulbs, he sees flashes of a future he can picture with you: your first kiss, waking up to you in the morning every day, your wedding day and carrying you over the threshold of your home when you’re back from your honeymoon. He can see it all. Three kids, two dogs, and a hamster, family vacations, their friends being honorary uncles. 

Maybe he’s getting ahead of himself, but when he’s with you, he can’t help it. You are his forever and a day. 

Every time he steals a glance at you, you’re in a world of your own. You’re so focused on looking up at the pre-hanging lights that you let him drag you along without much thought. Not that he minds much, himself. The little sparkle in your eyes as you look around in awe is utterly adorable. Not to mention that you’re willingly out with him in matching Christmas sweaters—maybe reluctantly at first, but willingly nonetheless. He never thought he’d get you to agree, but now that you did, the oversized tacky sweater somehow makes you look even cuter than he imagined.  

He can’t decide whether or not to scream to the world about how precious you are, or if he wants to wrap you up in a blanket and keep you all to himself. He thoroughly believes the world deserves to see your brightness, but at the same time, he only wants you to smile at him. He wants to be the reason you smile so wide your cheeks hurt, he wants to be the reason to laugh so hard you fall off your seat. 

Hyunjin’s focus returns to in front of him, a small content smile playing at his lips. Not because of you (mostly), but because he already knows the perfect place to watch the switch on. He’s had this planned for weeks now—another thing he will never admit.

Ever since the announcement of the light switch on came on social media a few weeks back, Hyunjin has been on a special mission. Every weekend since then, he’s sneaked off to the city to find the best spot possible to see the lights in all their glory. (He had told you that he had been helping Changbin with some stuff; whether or not you believed him was another story). Somewhere not too crowded, somewhere not too far away. Something perfect—something you deserve. 

That’s when he discovered a small cafe, its entrance hidden in a small alleyway wedged between two buildings. He was surprised at first that it was open since there were no signs on the street to indicate its existence, apart from the small menu board at the bottom of the metal staircase. 

As he guides you into the alleyway, he hears you hum in confusion. Feeling your hand tense up slightly in his, he stops and turns around. 

You’re looking at him with furrowed eyebrows, concern drawn all over your face. With a light squeeze of his hand, Hyunjin sends you a smile. 

“Do you trust me?” he says barely above a whisper, squeezing your hand once more. 

Hyunjin’s smile widens as you don’t even hesitate to nod your head at him.

“Always.” 

Before you get the chance to speak, you’re already up on the roof of the small coffee shop. It’s surprisingly empty with how busy the streets are down below. It makes Hyunjin wonder why there aren’t more people up there, not that he’s complaining.

Even though you’re both out of the crowd, Hyunjin still doesn’t let go of your hand just yet. He’s too content in the way it feels right now, and he wants to soak up every moment of it, because he doesn’t know when he’ll get the chance to again. He could play the clingy card to buy himself more time—it’s something he’s done before when he was sick, and it’s worked—but it doesn’t feel quite right this time. This was different from his usual antics somehow. It feels natural, it feels right. But at the same time, he wants to jump around and do some somersaults, much like his heart in his chest is.

He quickly hides the way his smile drops when you let go of his hand and runs over to the metal railings, gasping at the better view of the hung-up lights. 

When you turn back to him, it’s like everything has disappeared around him and all he can see is you and your smile. He forgets how to breathe, he feels faint, and he wants nothing more than to wrap you up in his arms and to kiss you all over your pretty face. He can’t do that, of course, but will he do it in his dreams later that night? Probably. Most definitely. 

He almost misses it when you speak to him, your smile growing by the second. 

“This is great Hyun!” You’re bouncing in place. “How did you find this place?” 

He shrugs and looks everywhere except in your eyes to try and calm his heating cheeks. 

“Oh you know, I just stumbled upon it.”

He can’t help himself when you hold your hand out to him. “Let’s watch the lights together.” 

So he takes it, letting your warmth dance around his hand in a mix of comfort and giddiness. He’s sure you haven’t noticed the new effect you’ve had on him, too oblivious to the world around you to know when someone is falling head over heels for you. 

There’s a part of Hyunjin’s brain that tries to remind him of the deal. A reminder that all of these events are not real, just as he wanted. However, Hyunjin decides to push these thoughts down into a little box, lock them up with a lock and key, and bury it in his mind.

The countdown is like a faint blur in his ears, the chanting taking a backseat to the person right in front of him. All he can hear is your soft counting, all he can feel is his pulse racing in his fingertips.

“Five, four, three,” Hyunjin squeezes your hand.  “Two…” You squeeze it back. “One.” 

At the flip of a switch, a blaze of colourful lights brighten up the town. But to Hyunjin, even they don’t compare to the awestruck sparkle in your eyes that sets his heart aflame.

eight.

– december 7th.

Since it’s the week before finals, Hyunjin insisted this past weekend that you two have dates every day this week. One, you suggested to stop the dates so you could study and he said no. That’s an understatement, actually—he practically got on his knees and begged you not to do that. Like, shook-you-by-the-shoulders, one-step-away-from-giving-up-his-americano begged.

It’s funnier now that it’s over, but you’ve never seen him more desperate for anything. Weird. Maybe he ate too many of Felix’s brownies that day.

When Hyunjin arrives at your dorm for your daily date today, the first thing he tells you is, and you quote, “Sit your ass down and wait until I finish setting up.” So, not wanting to deal with his whining today, you do exactly as you’re told for once.

You let yourself sink into your couch as your eyes lazily follow Hyunjin around. He goes in and out of your kitchen, places his laptop on the coffee table in front of you, and opens it. The screen lights up, prompting him to input his password, but instead of doing so, he heads straight back into the kitchen without a word. 

Huffing silently, you lean forward and type in his password: the month and day of both of your birthdays. It takes a second, but when the screen loads into an already-opened, paused, full-screen video of a fireplace, you furrow your brows.

“Hyun? What's this?” you call out to him. 

Almost instantly, you hear him groan in response. Then he appears at the kitchen door and stares at you with his arms crossed. “I told you to sit down.”

“Oops?” You smile at him sheepishly. “I’m a rule-breaker.”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes before disappearing back into the kitchen. “A freak is what you are,” he grumbles.

You gasp. “HEY! I HEARD THAT!”

“THAT’S THE POINT!” he yells back from the kitchen.

Getting up from your seat, you make your way over to the kitchen, shivering slightly from the light chill in the air. You stay at the doorway, not wanting to sacrifice your feet to the cold tiles of your kitchen floor. Your eyes land on Hyunjin’s frame faster than you’d like to admit, and he’s standing over two mugs as he places  tiny marshmallows into each of them. 

“I thought I said sit down,” he says, not looking in your direction. You don’t want to know how he knows you’re there; you didn’t even move from the doorway. Maybe he saw you staring, maybe he just knows you that well… you hope it’s the second one.

“I couldn’t sit still,” you huff, bringing your arms across your chest. 

He picks up the two mugs, takes a few steps towards you, and gestures to them with his head. 

“Take these,” Hyunjin says as he hands them over. “Go sit back down, I’ll get some blankets.” 

“M’kay.” Your voice comes out higher than usual. Praying he doesn’t notice, you quickly cover it up with a cough. “I mean, yep. Mhm.”

You hold your breath as you shuffle back over to the couch, exhaling deeply as you place the two mugs on the coffee table next to Hyunjin’s laptop. It’s when you sit down that you notice the whipped cream and drizzle of chocolate syrup he added to top both of your drinks. As your gaze follows the steam lightly swirling out of the mugs, you can’t help but smile. He remembered your favourite.

Not even a minute later, he’s back, your duvet in his arms. Before you can ask why, he throws it down on top of you. 

“ACK!” you shriek. “I thought—” you attempt to speak as you wrestle your way out the duvet, “you were getting blankets!” 

“I got a blanket, didn’t I?” 

“But why the big one?!”

You feel the couch dip as Hyunjin sits down beside you. He helps free you from the duvet before he straightens it out, waving it once and letting it drape down across your laps. 

“So we can do this.” 

You just keep your eyes down on the duvet for a moment. It’s more than enough to cover both your and his legs, which you guess a throw blanket wouldn’t have been able to accomplish.

When you finally look up, though, Hyunjin is smiling at you tenderly. You catch yourself holding your breath again as his soft gaze finds yours. For a second, the brown hue in his eyes reminds you of the chocolate drizzle in your hot chocolate—comforting, sweet—maybe too sweet for some, but just the right amount for you. Has the brown in his eyes always sparkled like it is now?

Wait… what are you doing?

“Oh, u-um…” You blink a few times to try to bring yourself back down to earth. “Then this works, thanks, Hyun.” You take a mug from Hyunjin when he hands one over to you. “So what exactly are we doing?”

“We’re going to cuddle and drink hot cocoa by the fireplace,” Hyunjin hums, nodding proudly before taking a long sip of his drink.

You take a second to process his words, then you glance at Hyunjin’s laptop screen. “But that’s YouTube?” 

He turns to look at you and blinks. If you could reverse time, this would be the perfect time to do it. 

“Well, I know that, but we don’t have a fireplace.” He sighs. “This is the best we got.” 

He leans over, clicks ‘play’ on the video, and the delicate crackling of fire emanating from his laptop begins to fill the room. Maybe it’s not a real fireplace, but the heat you’re feeling from him sitting so close and the comforting sounds make you feel plenty warm.

Hyunjin settles back into his spot on the couch, picking up his mug with one hand. You lift up your mug, too, and softly clink it with his, taking a sip together as well. You’re so engrossed in the sweet, creamy drink melting in your mouth, that you don’t notice Hyunjin has casually slipped his arm around your shoulders until another few sips later. You lean your head against him and do nothing to shake his arm off, even though a tiny part of your brain screams at you to make it stop.

You’ve lost track of how much time has passed, but when the hot chocolates are finished, the crackling has faded into the background and the sound of Hyunjin’s faint snoring fills your ears. It’s enough time and space to let your brain wander. Iit wanders to the way Hyunjin’s cologne is a constant in your life, the way you always know where he is and where he’s been. It wanders to how every piece of clothing you own, and your whole life, is in some way infused with the essence of Hyunjin. 

Moving your head ever-so-slightly so you don’t wake him, you let your eyes gaze at the blond-headed boy for a moment too long. You can’t understand why he tries so hard to chase after perfection, when that’s already what he is. The way his eyelashes lay across his cheeks and the way his nose scrunches up at something in his dream—you can’t help but smile at the boy who has you wrapped up in his arms. 

It made you wonder when the feeling of his arms around you began to feel different. Hyunjin is Hyunjin, your best friend and nothing more than that. This fake dating thing is just that—fake. It’s a made-up relationship, a scheme to give Hyunjin what he’s always wanted: a college Christmas romance. One that started to feel a little too real to you.

There shouldn’t be feelings involved when it comes to fake dating. Everyone knows that. You can count all the romcoms you’ve ever seen on only one hand, but even you know that rule. But the way Hyunjin hugs you tighter in his sleep causes not only your heart, but your head to race as well. You’re suddenly too warm, the laptop is too loud, and you feel like the weight of the world has just fallen on your shoulders. 

Your breathing begins to pick up, but you’re pulled back out of it when you feel Hyunjin move beside you. Your eyes find his half-opened ones; he looks like he could fall back asleep at any moment. 

“Are you okay?” he mumbles before letting out a yawn, his arms still secure around you. 

You hum, pretty much shoving your head into his chest, your eyes focused on his laptop. “I’m okay, Hyunnie.” 

Luckily, the sleepy Hyunjin doesn't question it. He just pulls you closer and places a kiss on your hairline, sending your mind into another spiral. 

“Just take a nap.” You feel him yawn again. “Just enjoy this time.” 

When Hyunjin’s snore fills your ears once more, you let out a breath and do your best to blink away the tears swelling up in your eyes. 

This was a big realisation for your brain to handle on a Tuesday night. And you're not sure what to do about it apart from what you do best—ignore it and hope it goes away. 

nine.

– december 14th.

Before anyone can even say anything, Hyunjin knows he should be focusing on his art theory class. However, as he’s laying down across his desk with his head resting on his arm, he can’t help but stare at his phone in despair. 

It had been seven days—one week—since the magical movie night at your dorm. Since then, all of his messages had gone unresponded—actually, you responded exactly one time: the morning after when Hyunjin had asked about getting breakfast. You were busy. 

He mindlessly unlocks his phone, opening his message chain with you. Still no response or even a ‘read’ alert from you at the bottom. Deep down, he knows you haven’t even clicked on his messages if there is no ‘read’ alert, just like how his fridge won’t magically fill up with food if he doesn’t restock it… unless you turned read receipts off entirely, but that’s too much effort for you to do. 

He lost count of how many times he told you in high school to turn it off when you were in fights with your friends. You’d keep opening their messages and the fights would only continue when they saw you were ignoring them. You always brushed him off saying that there was no point, that they’d still know anyway. 

But here he is, staring at his phone, wishing for something, anything from you. At this point, he would take a ‘read at 3:25pm’ over the vacancy his inbox seems to taunt him with.

He only realises that class is over when the mass of people in the lecture hall scramble around him to leave. Hyunjin picks up his head from his table and sits there a moment longer. 

The other students make a beeline for the door, the professor glances at Hyunjin still sitting there and shakes their head, before following the students out the semi-open door, closing it behind them. Even with everyone’s presence in the room gone, it still feels just as empty as it did twenty minutes before. 

His phone lights up and a little bit of joy enters his heart, only for it to be smashed into pieces when the words become clear. 

Binnie : YO !! 

Binnie : free to get lunch or you with y/n? 

Hyunjin responds with a simple ‘i’m free.’ He locks his phone and shoves it into his pocket before throwing his messenger bag over his shoulder, dragging himself out of the lecture hall to wherever Changbin and the gang are. 

…

Hyunjin can hear them before he sees them. 

Jisung’s incessant screams and Changbin’s laughter are both way too loud for Hyunjin to put up with in that moment. But still, he wonders, following the sounds as they grow closer and closer and the two clowns (said with affection) become clear. 

Jisung’s too busy running around the picnic table, screaming about something with Changbin laughing so hard he has tears streaming down his face. Next to him is a silent-as-ever Chan, watching in amusement with a dopey smile present on his lips. 

It goes silent when Hyunjin drops his bag with a thud on the table. It makes him wince and the stares from three of his friends makes him wish the world would swallow him whole. It’s still silent when he throws one leg over the bench and sits himself down, bringing the other leg in before using his bag as a pillow.

Three, two, one… he thinks.

“What’s up with you?”

There it is. Hyunjin ignores the question as he tries to push his head further into his bag.

“Hyun?” Chan’s voice is softer than the other two boys. Whilst he knows the other two mean well, it’s a lot more comforting when it’s coming from Chan. “Are you okay?” 

It takes all of his strength to pick his head up off of the table and look at the eldest of the four boys. Hyunjin feels as if his default look is to frown and when the other two boys clock on, Jisung is sat down next to him in a flash. 

“Bro,” Changbin starts. “You look as if your mum told you you’d never see Kkami again.” 

This clown (again said with affection) really did not have the slightest indication of how to comfort someone. There was something unique about Changbin, he had heart, but brains? That and reading the room wasn’t always his strong suit. 

“I think what he means is,” Chan rephrases, “you look really down in the dumps. What’s up, buddy?” There he goes, talking as if he’s seventy when he’s barely twenty-six.

“Y/N hasn’t spoken to me in a week…” Hyunjin mumbles, letting his head fall back onto his bag. “Do you think she hates me?” he asks, but to the trio it comes out more like, ‘o u inks smates me?’ 

He isn’t sure who places a hand on his back—he assumes it’s Jisung with the angle. All he knows is he can feel a cold hand just barely pressing through his hoodie. 

“Maybe she’s busy?” Jisung says, patting Hyunjin’s back lightly. “She’ll send her usual emoji update when she’s ready.” 

Hyunjin only picks up his head again so his friends can hear him. “She hasn’t even read any of my messages.” 

It’s quiet, too quiet. When he sits up to look at them and Jisung’s hand falls from his back, Hyunjin’s frown just enhances. The boys look at each other, frowns present on their own faces. Hyunjin doesn’t think they completely understand the situation. But then again, neither can he.

“What do I do?” he says. 

“She’s probably busy with exams…” Jisung blurts out, looking at the two boys sitting across from them before looking back at Hyunjin. 

“Yeah!” Changbin pipes in. “Plus her internship! That’s probably keeping her busy too, especially since it’s close to Christmas!” 

Hyunjin looks over at Chan, he’s silent like usual. He has a sad smile on his face, like he wants to say something to calm Hyunjin’s worries, but he’s just not exactly sure what those words are. 

“Thanks guys…” Hyunjin does his best to smile.

Jisung brings him in for a tight hug. Even though he normally would have, Hyunjin doesn’t try to push him away. The coos from the two other boys make his heart feel just a bit warmer. 

…

– december 15th.

Hyunjin should have called first. But with how silent you’ve been over the past eight days, he knew you wouldn’t have picked up. So here he stands, two pizza boxes in one hand as he tries to pluck up the courage to finally knock on your door after standing outside it for god knows how long. 

He wonders if you’ll smell the pizza from inside and open the door yourself so he wouldn’t have to knock. A boy can dream. 

He clenches his fist so hard it turns white. Takes a deep breath, releases it. Takes another one. He thinks about how he’ll knock on the count of three—but then procrastinates even more by thinking about if he means he’d do it on three or after three. 

In actuality, he doesn’t need to do anything when the sound of your door unlocking makes him smile slightly. He knew you’d smell the pizza. 

When the door opens up wide enough, you jump back slightly in surprise. Hyunjin can barely believe himself either. He’s actually here… in all his anxious glory.

“Hyunjin…” 

Your face visibly pales, causing Hyunjin to frown. Did you really not want to see him that badly? Over a week of nothing and this is how you react when you see him again? 

He looks down at your outfit. You’ve got your puffer coat on and your bag draped across your chest, sending the puffiness out in awkward directions. “Where are you going?” 

“I– I’ve got class,” you stutter. 

“Oh.” Hyunjin’s shoulders drop. 

He motions to the pizza boxes in his hand and smiles sheepishly. He watches how your eyes glance at them before darting off in another direction.

“I thought we could chill and have pizza, like normal,” he explains, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m sorry, I forgot you had class today and…” Hyunjin pauses. He takes another deep breath as he watches you, waiting to see if you’d finally look at him. “I was just wondering if we could talk… it’s been a while you know?” 

One of your hands comes up to fiddle with the hair behind your left ear. Hyunjin takes note of how you bite at your bottom lip. 

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that.” 

Hyunjin blinks. You’re still avoiding his gaze.

“Can we at least talk quickly?” he asks. He can’t tell if he’s grateful or not when you open the door wider for him to enter. 

“Okay. Just make it quick.”

He shuffles inside, placing the pizza boxes down on the coffee table that once held his laptop as their makeshift fireplace. Turning back to you, Hyunjin now sees how your hands are shoved into your pockets. Your coat is zipped all the way up so you can hide your face in your collar. 

“Where have you been?” The question escapes his lips before he can even register it. 

He’s watching you for every single change in your body language, every little muscle movement. Anything that will clue him into what the heck is happening. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, barely above a whisper. “I’ve been busy with schoolwork, and my internship is piling more on me because Christmas is coming up.” Just like Changbin had thought. But even then, it didn’t feel enough. 

“You could have said something,” Hyunjin sighs. “Anything. Even just an emoji like you usually do when you’re cramming.” 

He’s surprised when you have nothing to say. You’re just hiding in your coat collar and he can see the distressed look on your face. Hyunjin has never felt more confused in his life, and here you are, doing nothing to help. He feels as if he’s questioning every life choice he’s made up to this point. 

“Are you okay?” he speaks again after another moment. “You know you can tell me anything, right?” 

Hyunjin feels like tiny needles are being pricked into his heart, and your silence is pushing them deeper. The more seconds that tick by, the more his heart crumbles in his chest.

He watches as you take a deep breath in. He watches you as you exhale. 

“About that…” You gulp and take another breath. “We should stop this… we should break up.” 

Hyunjin can hear the glass house around him break into hundreds and thousands of little pieces. He’s sure that in all that rubble is his heart—pierced and splinted, bleeding out from each wound. Yet all that he can do is blink. 

“...What?”

For the first time in his life, he cannot read a single expression or feeling on your face. It’s like he’s been placed in the middle of the desert; no map, no compass, nothing. He’s lost, afraid, and so, so alone. And you’re just standing there, a mere few feet away from him, unable to even look him in the eye.

“We should end our agreement.” You’re fiddling with the strap on your bag as if to keep your mind from spiralling or wondering. “Look, everything with class and my internship is getting busier, and you wanted Christmas dates, right?”

You gulp again. Hyunjin is just silent. He can’t even nod.

“You got what you wanted. You got the dates and to experience a Christmas romance.” You finally look him in the eye, and it’s like one final stab to his heart. “So we should end this now, so we can both focus on the things we need to.” 

You’re finally staring at each other, battling it out silently for who can keep their hold the longest. It’s torture and Hyunjin’s never felt pain like this… it pierces into his stomach so bad that he wants to throw up. 

“Hyunjin—” 

Before you can even finish your sentence, you’re cut off by the sound of the door unlocking. Your eyes widen in surprise as Yeri, your usually missing roommate, walks through the door. She has a suitcase behind her, probably back from whatever adventure she’s been on with her girlfriend. 

You seem glad to see her back in one piece, but god, did she have the worst timing. It makes Hyunjin want to scream. Why now, of all times, did she have to decide to come home? Right when Hyunjin’s in the middle of being ‘dumped’ by the person he’s in love with?

Yeri looks up in shock, takes one of her airpods out of her ear, and grins sheepishly. 

“Oh, I’m sorry…” Her eyes flicker between you and Hyunjin. She’s not sure what to make of the awkward atmosphere, but Hyunjin doesn’t blame her. “I’ll…” She motions to her bedroom door to insinuate the end of her sentence, before dragging her suitcase behind her. 

When the soft click of her door closing behind her is heard, you turn your attention back to Hyunjin. You open your mouth to speak, but before you can utter a word, he shakes his head. 

“No.” He doesn’t even let you begin. 

He wants to scream and cry out, not only in confusion, but in what Hyunjin can’t tell is anger or just pure sadness. He doesn’t, partly because he knows Yeri is within earshot, but also because he doesn’t know if he has the energy. His mind is making so many laps and leaps trying to figure out everything that he just wants to lie down.

He gasps for air. His eyes feel misty and he wants to do nothing but run. 

“I get it,” he mutters, looking away. “You can have what you want.”

Hyunjin says no more, leaving the discarded pizzas on the coffee table. He ignores the way his heart stings when you don’t call after him. He doesn’t even bother to wait for the elevator, choosing to rush down the stairs to get out of the building as fast as possible whilst wiping his cheeks haphazardly with the back of his sleeve. 

He once again wants the world to swallow him whole—or for him to sleep for the rest of the Christmas season. Because, honestly, none of it seems worth it anymore.

ten.

– december 18th.

How is it possible that three days can feel like an eternity? 

‘We should end this.’ Your voice repeats in Hyunjin’s brain in a constant loop. It torments him when he’s awake and stays to haunt him in his dreams. ‘We should break up.’ 

The first day felt like torture. All he wanted to was rant about you, to you. Sure, he could go to his other friends, but when you’re his first choice… what could he do? He couldn’t call or text you now that he wants to more than over. He wanted to cry at the sound of your voice and beg you to reconsider—to go on real dates with him—to have a real Christmas romance. 

‘You got what you wanted.’

Day two was just as hard. When he hadn’t blown up the group chat over some random thing in over twenty-four hours, this was when his friends got worried. So they blew up his phone instead with a mixture of concern and heartfelt care, and whatever you call Jisung’s messages. Hyunjin decided to ignore them, but kept checking his phone on the off-chance he’d get a text from you. Eventually, he turned over his phone and rolled over in his bed, shutting his eyes and hoping the world would disappear for a bit. 

‘You got the dates, you got to experience a Christmas romance.’

Now here he sits, on day three, in the trio’s shared off-campus apartment. He only begrudgingly got out of bed when Jisung threatened to start screaming outside his door. He’s lying sideways across the couch, his feet propped up against the armchair. He hasn’t washed his hair in too long, he vaguely thinks a family of birds might nest in it someday, and his grey sweats have a big blotch of brown on one leg. He spilled hot Americano on himself when he got home after your breakup, but he didn’t have the energy to change out of them.

He knows he shouldn’t be calling it a breakup when you two were never really together. But when his feelings are completely and utterly real, it really feels like one. He feels his eyes start to become misty again, and he shoves his head into his sweater paws as he tries to bury himself in the sofa more. 

‘So we should end this now.’

Chan, Changbin, and Jisung are all watching from the barely-used dining table. They are at a loss for words, they hadn’t thought about the possibility of you and Hyunjin ever breaking up. To everyone in the friend group, you two were set for life, ride-or-dies, the sunshine to the flowers. To them, there was never any possibility of a break up. They just didn’t get it. 

Changbin takes a sip of his protein shake through a bright pink curly straw, and huffs. “This is weird, dudes.” He looks over at the two other boys, who still have their eyes on Hyunjin. “He’s never been like this with anyone.” 

“Y/N isn’t just anyone, though,” Chan responds.

“Yeah,” Jisung sighs, resting his chin on the palm of his hand. His eyes still bore into Hyunjin. “They’re, like, totally made for each other.”  

Hyunjin brings his hands away slightly, sending the best glare he could manage. To the boys, however, it was more pitiful than scary, like a kicked puppy. All they want to do is scoop him up and never let him go until his heart is unbroken.  

“You know I can hear you, right?” Hyunjin asks. “And to be honest, I really don’t like all this mumbling.” 

The boys don’t hold his bad mood against him. He’s upset, frustrated, and they know he’ll apologise when he’s feeling better. Chan takes the lead, opening his mouth to speak before the other two dummies could say anything to make Hyunjin more upset. 

“We’re sorry, we’re just confused on why you guys broke up,” he explains. The other two boys nod their heads as the eldest speaks. “You two have always seemed so perfect for each other.” 

They notice how Hyunjin’s shoulders drop and he goes to hide his face in his sweater paws again. His words come out all muffled and Chan, Changbin, and Jisung all glance at each other to see if any of them understood what he said.

“What was that?” Chan asks. Hyunjin yanks his sweater paws away from his face, turning his head sharply at the boys.

“We never broke up, okay?!”

The trio can now really see how glassy Hyunjin’s eyes have become. They exchange concerned glances with each other, frowns of their own also covering their faces.

“W-Wait. What do you m—” 

Hyunjin cuts Chan off with a hiccup. 

“We— we were never really together... So w-we never really broke up.” 

The boys are stunned, confused and so completely stunned. They don’t know where to even begin to wrap their heads around the confession. But it also leads them to the next question, if it was all fake… why was Hyunjin so distraught now that it was over? 

Now it didn’t take a genius to figure that out, but it was better to hear it from Hyunjin himself.

“Okay,” Chan gulps, “do you want to start from the beginning?” 

So Hyunjin starts from the beginning. He starts off with the confession from Jisoo that was totally not the vibe. He talks about how he went to you to whine about how he was losing his chance for a college christmas romance, to how you suggested he should fake date someone to get the experiences he wanted. To how he had decided you were his perfect person for the task. 

“Why didn’t you just tell us it was fake, man?” Changbin asks, “it wouldn’t have been that much of a deal.” 

Hyunjin sighs, falling back into the chair and letting his head fall backwards so he can look up at the ceiling. 

“I don’t know, just wanted it to seem more realistic I guess.” He sighs. 

“Well…” Jisung continues, “what happened next?” 

So Hyunjin continues with his story. He talks about the decorating of your dorm, he ignores the comment from Jisung about that’s how your apartment got that way. He goes on to talk about the movie night and the cookies to the ice skating, and he talks about the Christmas tree farm. 

“From there…” Hyunjin slows down and pauses. 

The trio is silent, waiting for the blond to admit what they all know. They’re not sure how long he’s silent for, it could have been only a second, but in that moment it could have also been a lifetime. 

“From there… It was different.” 

He looks over to the three boys at the dining table. He felt like his heart was cracking in a whole new different way. When he was keeping it to himself, he could shove it into a little box and act as if it was something future-Hyunjin had to deal with. But now this present version of him hated past him for even thinking about putting the emotions aside to begin with. 

“I don’t know when it happened, or if it happened long before I even realised it, but she’s different. She’s her version of perfect and now it’s blown up in my face.” Hyunjin’s frown is contagious. “I– I love her and now she wants nothing to do with me anymore.” 

“I’m sure that’s not true…” Changbin tries to sympathise, but Hyunjin just shakes his head. 

“You should have seen her, she would barely look at me.” Hyunjin begins to hiccup again. “She’s the love of my life and it ended before it even started.” 

Jisung opens his mouth to speak, but Chan quickly nudges him in the side to be quiet. When Jisung looks at the older boy, all Chan does is shake his head. A look on his face saying let him get this out. 

“Ever since the Christmas tree farm, she’s been different, she’s amazing and kind–” Hyunjin hiccups, blinking away the tears he could feel welling up in his eyes. “She has this sparkle about her and even though I know it annoyed her, she still let me go on and on about how I wanted a perfect college Christmas romance when with her… I don’t need perfection.” 

“What are you going to do?” 

Hyunjin feels like curling up into a ball. He wishes for his friends to stop staring at him. He wants to hide, he wants to cry, and he wants to eat his body weight in a food that isn’t going to remind him of you– not that there were many types of those things. 

“I need to give her the space she wanted,” Hyunjin states. “She can do the things she needs to: focus on work and her internship. And I'll wait…” 

“Wait for her?” Jisung says.

Hyunjin nods. “I’ll wait forever if I have to.” 

eleven.

– december 14th.

When the soft click of her door closing behind her is heard, you turn your attention back to him. You open your mouth to speak, but before you can utter a word, he shakes his head.

“No.” He doesn’t even let you begin.

He gasps for air and you can see him blinking rapidly. You feel your heart tear in two.

“I get it,” he mutters. “You can have what you want.”

Before you can utter another word, he’s out the door. You’re sure the pizza he leaves behind is cold by now, but even if you were hungry a few minutes ago, you’re not anymore. What you want more is for him to turn around, to come back when you call out to him.

But he’s gone. It’s too late.

“Okay, so what was that all about?” Yeri’s voice breaks you out of your trance. 

You’re not sure how long it’s been since Hyunjin left your dorm, your door is still wide open, and you haven’t even moved a muscle. Even though you have class in twenty minutes—that part you didn’t lie about—you want nothing but to run into your room and hide there for the rest of the year.

You clear your throat and your hands go back to the strap of your bag to keep them entertained. “I… I don’t know what you’re on about.”

You haven’t even turned to look at her and you know that she knows you’re lying through your teeth.  

“Uh huh,” Yeri tuts. 

You hear her footsteps get closer to you before she’s come up beside you and is now in eye view. 

“So no trouble going on with Mr Blond Best Friend, then?” she continues to question. 

You stay silent in response, not trusting your own voice. Your eyes start to feel wet. You were able to keep up an act in front of Hyunjin, but now that he’s gone and the vision of his teary eyes keeps repeating in your mind, it’s getting more and more difficult to pretend. 

“Nothing’s going on,” you clear your throat again. Tugging on your crossbody bag, you look at her once before rushing to the door. “I need to go to class, glad to see you back.” 

Yeri can’t even get another word out as you rush out the door, slamming it behind you. You unknowingly take the same route as Hyunjin, rushing down the stairs to get out of the building as quickly as possible. 

Once the cold air hits you, you take a deep breath and wipe your cheeks with the back of your hands. 

You had to, it was the only option.

“Hyunjin!” you call out, looking all around you. Several students push by you, some wearing holiday pyjamas or Santa hats. You don’t understand how they can feel even an ounce of Christmas spirit right now.

You try running somewhere, anywhere, ducking and weaving through the pack of students making their way to wherever they want to go. There are hundreds of students out, yet you can pick out one blond head from the crowd.

“Hyunjin!”

You run faster. Before you’re able to process it, someone on an electric scooter whizzes by, knocking you off your feet. You yelp and stretch your arms out to catch yourself.

And now you’re on the ground. Groaning, you slowly move to get up. Hundreds of students pass by where you lie, but not one stops to help you. Until…

“Oh my god, Y/N!”

You light up for a second at the familiar voice. Once you realise who it is, you roll over, deflated.

Jisung gasps. “You look like death! What happened to you?!”

You blink once. “Gee, thanks,” you say flatly.

The boy stares at you for a second before finally reaching a hand out. You take it and he pulls you up.

“O-Okay, but seriously, what happened?” he says. “Are you okay?”

You search his eyes for a moment before shrugging. What are you supposed to say to Jisung? That you just ruined your friendship with the love of your life?

“It’s about Hyunjin, isn’t it?” Jisung says, his voice softer. The way he’s watching you makes you tear up all over again. He seems to let you process for another moment before reaching over, rubbing your shoulder gently.

“Look,” he sighs, “I… I know you two weren’t real. I honestly thought you were, though.” He then mutters something along the lines of, “So I didn’t owe our friend group sixty dollars after all.”

“That’s your first thought right now?”

“Wait, nonono!” Jisung’s stance changes in a snap and begins frantically smoothing out your outfit, ruffling your messy hair and making it even messier. “It’s okay, it’s okay, everything will beeee okaaayyy.”

You groan and roll your eyes fondly, but you let him continue.

“Okay, but for real now…” He rubs your shoulder again. “I think you should tell him.”

A breath hitches in the back of your throat. “Tell him… what exactly?”

He sighs deeply. “You know what I mean, Y/N.”

It’s your turn to sigh, and you look down at your shoes as your eyes well up again. Jisung smiles sadly at you and pulls you into a hug.

“He misses you, you know that?” he says. You nod, shoving your face in his shoulder before he can see you cry. “And don’t worry, I won’t tell him you miss him, too. That’s your job.”

In between sobs, you nod.

“And once you two get together, I can get my damn money back,” Jisung grumbles.

You let out a wet chuckle and hold onto him for another minute. You’re terrified of what may happen, but no amount of fear in your body is worth the heartbreak you feel right now.

twelve.

– december 24th.

Hyunjin feels… something. 

Every year on Christmas Eve, the boy would scramble to get to bed early, so he could be asleep by the time Santa comes. Obviously, though, he’s since outgrown that tradition, but now he stays up till midnight like every other teenager and college student, counting down the seconds to Christmas Day. It’s as if Christmas is Hyunjin’s pre-New Year of sorts. He may not believe in Santa anymore, but the childlike wonder and excitement he gets during this time of year has never changed. He’s all jumpy and hyper and jittery like a kid who ate too much candy, eagerly awaiting the day that the movies and the lights and the snow have made so magical.

And this year, for the first time ever, he might not be counting down alone.

Going the past week without hearing the sound of your voice felt like walking barefoot through a pit full of Legos—doubly so because he saw you on campus during finals week talking to Jisung once. Jisung! Out of everyone in your friend circle, of course you were still talking to the one who flirts with everyone for fun. At least he didn’t wink at you this time…

But after what felt like aeons of being sent to voicemail, you finally called him back six days, sixteen hours, and forty-seven minutes ago. You said something about meeting up for lunch the day after or something; he barely remembers anything from that call other than that you called. That lunch at the university cafe wasn’t much different. He was so relieved that you were in front of him talking to him again that he wasn’t paying much attention to what you were actually saying.

…Okay, maybe that’s a lie. You rearranged the Christmas decorations he had thrown all over your dorm on your first date, you got all your Christmas shopping done, and you have a super-duper special date planned for Christmas Eve. Dress warm. You’ll pick him up at 8 for dinner. And you’ll both be getting home late.

Hyunjin can see his breath just past his nose as he checks out his reflection in the glass window panes of the university library. He picked out his best winter coat for tonight—the one that goes with almost any outfit he could put together, but also doesn’t take the limelight off of yours. He also broke out the pristine white sneakers—you know, the ones he cleans frantically after every use. Were they going to get dirty in the snow? Maybe a little. But it’s you, and they go so well with his sweater and jeans. You deserve his best fit.

He knows nothing about what your plan is for tonight. All he knows is that you’ll be here in five minutes, his stomach is doing flips inside him, and he’s got shivers going up his spine.

Hyunjin feels something—he just can’t name what that something is. All the adjectives he can think of don’t feel quite right. The closest he can get is ‘tingly’, and even then, he can’t explain why he landed on that particular word. But when you pull up at the library and roll down your window, all the words he’s ever learned fly out the door.

No combination of letters could capture how beautiful you are to him.

…

Hyunjin is surprised to find himself back in the heart of downtown. This time, it’s after a lovely meal and hours-long conversation with you, and you’re the one guiding him around now.

He swivels his head around as he lets you lead, taking in all the glittery Christmas lights the same way you are. Quickly, he recognizes you’re taking the same path he once did to the cafe where you two watched the light switch. He feels like he’s on the Polar Express to the North Pole—yes, of course he was watching the movie before your date tonight. It’s a Christmas must.

Wait… fake date. He nearly forgot these dates aren’t real.

He’s not sure why he let himself get away with calling all these real dates. Clearly, it made you uncomfortable to the point where you felt the need to fake-break up with him. He’s also not sure if he should consider himself lucky that the breakup wasn’t real.

Does this mean the fake Christmas romance thing is back on? You two never actually discussed it, but you did also ask him on a… fake date.

Despite this, there’s still something in the air that’s giving him that tingly feeling. He’s still not sure if that’s the right word. He just knows that standing right next to you on the balcony of an abandoned cafe to witness the arrival of Christmas Day… it feels so, so right. Almost like everything is falling into place.

“Hyunnie… can we talk?”

—

Hyunjin turns to you, his gaze soft, and you freeze in place. Did you really just say that? Now?  What if you ruin Christmas Eve and Christmas because you didn’t wait?

You sigh to yourself, a small puff of air escaping your mouth. You know that this was something you needed to do, both for yourself and your peace of mind. Maybe Jisung, too, and whatever lost money he was moping about that one time. But there’s still ten minutes to midnight. Is that too soon?

No. It’s not. If anything, it’s long overdue. No more running. Plus, if he’s truly your best friend and he doesn’t like you back, nothing should change… right? At least, not for the long term.

“Is everything okay?”

Hyunjin’s honey voice pulls you out of your thoughts. Hyunnie, sweet like honey… wait, Y/N, don’t get distracted. It’s almost midnight.

Take a deep breath.

“Hyunnie, um…” You fiddle with a small object in your pocket as you try to think.

When you look up, he’s nodding. “Yeah?”

Deep breath.

“I’m sorry… I'm sorry for ghosting you and stopping this so suddenly.” You’re blinking and Hyunjin watches as you open your mouth to speak before closing it again. Like the words are at the tip of your tongue, but the courage just hasn’t bubbled up enough. “I…” You take a breath, looking up at anywhere but him as you mumble to yourself, “God, this is so much harder than I thought it’d be.”

You take a little shuffle forward.

“I… I think I realised too late, and by the time I realised, I freaked out and just… I shut down.” You look at him, your eyes boring into each other like you’re both trying to find the centre of each other’s soul. It's too much for you to stomach while you struggle to pull words out of your throat, so you let your gaze fall.

“Realised what?” Hyunjin whispers. You somehow hear it over the crowd of people forming below you.

You shuffle forward unconsciously again, keeping your eyes down. 

“Do— do you hate me?” Hyunjin says.

Eyes wide, you snap your head up and shake your head quickly. “N-No! Of course not.” “Then what—”

Your gaze shoots down and your hand goes for Hyunjin’s. A small gasp leaves his mouth before your brain catches up with the rest of you.

When you finally have the courage to look back up, it’s like everything has blurred into the background. Everything except the boy in front of you, who looks about as shocked as you are at yourself. Is this it? Is this going to be your Hallmark moment?

Deep breath.

“I love you.”

Hyunjin’s eyes grow wider, his mouth opening and closing like a fish a couple times. He probably thinks someone took over your body, that this isn’t really you.

“You… love me?”

You nod and smile. It’s hard to tell if he’s still in disbelief, but honestly, you can barely believe you’re saying these words. But you mean every single one of them.

“I do… and there’s no one else I’d rather have a Christmas romance with.”

There’s a feverish look grazing Hyunjin’s face, his mouth opened just slightly as he gasps quietly. You swear you can see little stars adorning his pretty brown eyes.

“Well,” you clarify quickly, “a college Christmas romance. But I don’t think I want this to end after we graduate.”

Hyunjin’s eyes are crinkling at the edges, his nose scrunching just slightly with the force of his joy. You’re sure of two things in that moment. One, your own expression must look just as lovesick as his. And two, you’ve never seen anyone as beautiful as Hyunjin under the glow of the lights surrounding the plaza. 

“Y/N, I… can I kiss you?”

From somewhere in the streets below, you recognize the gathered crowd beginning the countdown to midnight. You barely pay it half a mind as you pull the object from your pocket. Hyunjin’s eyes follow you as you hold it up over your heads. It’s a small sprig of mistletoe, and you can’t help the proud smile that sweeps across your face.

“You know, you wanted to hit all the Christmas traditions and you forgot one of the best ones.” 

“God, I love you.”

You practically jump into his arms when he presses his lips against yours. Fireworks explode in your chest as the clock rings twelve and cheers erupt from the streets below. It’s all a buzz in your head, though, as you cup Hyunjin’s cheeks in your hands and melt into his arms and lips and just him. 

You hope he never tries to chase perfection again, because you’re sure that this moment, right now, is the definition of it. Nothing has ever felt so perfect, so right, and nothing else will ever come close.

As if on cue, when you two slowly break the kiss, you feel something wet land on your head. You and your not fake boyfriend?—you’ll have to talk to him about that later—look up to see fluffy, white snowdrops falling all around you two.

“Merry Christmas, Hyunnie,” you say, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Hyunjin has the biggest smile on his face as you pull away. “Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

You let out a joyful giggle. It looks like Hyunjin got the cheesy Christmas romance he’s been searching his whole life for. It might not have gone the exact way he’d dreamed of, but you hope he is as happy as he has always made you.

And maybe, just maybe, you also got the ending you’d been dreaming of all along.

[minhosimthings]

Lancey or Lancey

Symphony Smut Series Day 5: Lancey Foxx's Lancey or Lancey

Lyric: Took her to Paris, she took her panties off

Pairings: Bf!Felix × fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, fingering, p in v sex, overstimulation, lingerie kink, Frottage, implied use of pheromone, dom!felix, sub!reader, protected sex, reader orgasms like 3 times, fluffy at the end (sorta), smut with plot

A/N: sorry for delaying day 5 everyone! I had to release my Christmas headcannons yesterday so I couldn't really post this. But we are back on track! So enjoy my urge for Felix to buy my lingerie, through this stupid oneshot.

THE SYMPHONY SMUT SERIES MASTERLIST

"Felix tell me you're kidding right now."

"Hmm." Your boyfriend put his finger to his temple, pretending to playfully think, "I think.... Nope!"

You could have screamed out loud right there. But instead of damaging your boyfriend's ears, you decided to damage his heart, by filling it with too much love, by hugging him almost to the point of his ribs breaking.

"I love, I love you, and I love you." You kissed every part of his face after every 'i love you'. His freckles, his nose and finally his lips, where you loved to be the most.

"I can't believe we're going to Paris." You slumped back on the bed, not being able to realise that you had Paris tickets clutched in your hands.

"Me neither darling." Felix leaned closer to you, encasing your waist in his arms, his grip sending tingles throughout your body, "Oh and I have a surprise for you."

"Don't tell me you got me lingerie." You rolled your eyes at him playfully, "Lix, for god's sake you already bought me so much crap."

"But this is special, I promise!" Felix scrunched his nose at you, before reaching over and taking out a box from underneath the bed.

"You hid it under my bed for how long exactly?" You raised your brow at his weird hiding spot, "Wait so this is why you were searching for your missing sock under my bed!?"

Felix chuckled, his deep voice pulsating throughout your body like electroshock. "You never clean the underside of your bed, so it became the perfect hiding place."

The box he held in his hands was about the size of a shoebox, completely covered in pink ribbons and lace and whatnot. It was pretty, you had to admit, but you were confused about whether Felix was getting you a box or lingerie.

"Open it princess." Felix nudged the box into your arms, "You'll like it, I promise."

You had often gotten lingerie as gifts from your boyfriend, with all of them almost becoming your daily wear. But he had never gotten you something like this.

"Liz is this-" "A lingerie dress? Yes princess, yes it is."

You stared at felix in awe, before snapping your head back to the white cloth in the box. It was pretty, made up of, what you assumed was white silk, with lace ribbons decorating the neckline perfectly.

"But, but, but, this isn't the surprise."

You looked up at Felix with confusion clouding your eyes, which made him chukle at how adorable you were.

"So the surprise is-" Felix said, in a hyperbole voice, "I get to fuck you in these in Paris."

"That's the surprise?" You scoffed, at how underwhelming it was, "We could fuck-"

"And you get no sex until we get to Paris and you're in this beautiful piece of art."

It was as if you got a slap to your face when you heard Felix's words echo through your mind.

"Lee Felix Yongbok." You glared at him, "Tell me you're joking."

"Nope." Felix leaned back against the bedframe, his shirt riding up slightly to reveal his abs, "Let's just say this is payback for making me love no nut November on purpose."

"So what is this then? Death by No Dick December?" You glared at him, as he sealed you tighter in his arms.

"Impatient aren't you?" Felix mumbled into your ear, rubbing his hand against your leggings, "Patience is a good virtue darling."

"Not when your dick is literally rubbing against my pussy."

A week passed and you were finally in the land of romance and love and roses and croissants.

A week with none of your favourite food in your mouth or in your pussy. Felix enjoyed it, the way you were basically on your knees for him, but you weren't a sore loser, so you kept the game up, with the help of your trusty vibrator.

But now, it was the real game.

After you enjoyed some nice croissants by a quaint cafe and petted a lot of stray cats, you headed back to your hotel, side-eyeing Felix all along the way who had not a clue about all the breakdowns you were about to have. Your cunt was itching to the point of destruction, and his dick was the only way of peace.

"Well aren't you gorgeous now?"

The room was more dimly lit than it was when you had entered it, the smell of lavender intoxicating you, courtesy to Felix's new perfume.

"Come 'ere." Felix opened his arms, as you silently walked towards him, the chill breeze from the open window giving you goosebumps. The material of the lingerie was thinner than you had anticipated, basically transparent, but then you reminded yourself that this was what Felix liked the most. And if you obeyed properly like his good princess, he would give you the medicine to your poor cunt.

"Fuck you're like a goddess." Felix's hands traced over your barely clothes thighs, leaving marks with his mouth on your collarbone, making you whimper.

"What do you want princess?" Felix chuckled. Teasing you was always fun, "My cock hmm? Use your big girl words now, come on. We don't wanna disappoint the city of love do we?"

"Ah fuck Lix!" Your voice vibrated off of the walls as felix squeezed the inner walls of your thigh, the desperation of him had been so high that even a tiny squeeze was already getting you wet, "Need your cock please!"

"Good girl."

He chuckles at how needy you sound, but at the same time, your voice has blood rushing to his cock while his head swirls with desire. He shifts his own hips, subtly pressing his erection against your ass. His eyes flutter at the minute pleasure. He grows more bold, and his hand rubs your hip before coasting up your side to your chest, giving your breast a gentle squeeze.

You whimper louder and squirm. He squeezes again softly while lowering his head to your neck to lay some tender kisses on the side of your throat. His palm leaves your tits and smooths down over your tummy in the direction of your panties.

Cautiously, he maneuvers his hand past the waistband and dips into your cunt. He cups your pussy, feeling the heat radiating off the area. A single finger slides between your folds in almost an exploratory touch. He feels your slick all over his digit.

He begins to use another finger, sliding the two up and down through your wetness. You roll onto your back, your breasts rising and falling as your breath gets heavier. Your thighs spread a little as if you subconsciously sensed his presence between your legs.

“I’m right here, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his voice huskier with arousal this time around.

You cry out as his fingers brush against those same spots that brought you to the finish last time. Your hips twitch, and you grip his thighs as your peak rises within you. Moments later your cumming all over his fingers, sucking in a harsh breath as a second release courses through you, even more intense then the last.

His free arm keeps you secure against his chest while rubbing your side soothingly. The heel of his other palm roughly massages your clit as his fingers pump in and out.

As soon as you seem to be coming down, Felix lifts you up again, tugging your clothes off and moving your body around like a doll to get you in the position he wants. You were definitely more pliant after two orgasms, but you could also see how the weeks without pussy had been paying off. He was getting better.

He has you on your back now, thighs against your chest and knees hooked over his arms. Again, he had no patience to tease right now, so after pushing his sweats down to mid thigh, he takes his cock and slides it in you with no hesitation. He groans as your hole takes him in, your walls pulsing around him even after he bottoms out.

Your eyes droop at the stretch. It always felt so satisfying, having him buried balls deep in you. As close as he could possibly be. No fear of him leaving or pain of being separated. You whine and reach up to pull him closer.

“Perfect pussy’s made for me,” he grunts while snapping his hips, “Miss it every second I’m not inside it.”

“Lix” you whine, “Harder. Wanna feel it.”

He moans at your plea but indulges you, grabbing you harder, pressing your legs higher, filling you deeper.

He fucks into you over and over, stoking the flames within himself, trying to build to that explosion. You were so tight, so warm. He hums another low moan and whimpers softly as he feels it right there. He gasps softly before holding you tighter and muttering in your ear.

“Good… good girl,” he moans before his hips buck wildly and he finally releases.

You finish for a third time. You cling to him tight as the euphoria washes over you again. Locking your legs around his hips, you keep your face pressed to the warm skin of his neck as it goes through you. You feel the hot flood of cum he fucks into you. His chest is heaving now too as he recovers from the high.

He stays on top of you for a moment before pulling out. You cling harder upon losing that full feeling. He smiles at your desire to be close to him and gives you one more kiss before sitting up.

"Well-" Felix's deep voiced chuckle vibrates throughout your body, "That was fucking good."

"First of all-" you sleepily say, "Fuck you for depriving me of all that good dick for a week." You glare at him, "Second of all, I want more lingerie like this."

"Whatever you say darling." Felix shrugs his shoulders, supporting you a little straighter against his figure, "You know Paris does have really good lingerie."

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